


City Slicker

by scatteringmyashes



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Farmer Fenris, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Pining, Trans Character, Trans Fenris, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 08:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Fenris escaped an abusive relationship five years ago, driving off into the distance until the stolen truck literally broke down in the middle of nowhere. The surprisingly helpful inhabitants of Haven took him in, gave him some land, and ever since then he’s been happy with his dozen chickens, fertile fields, and sense of purpose. But… he’s a little lonely. Maybe. Just enough to have a dating profile.He never thought anyone would send anything, let alone a roguishly handsome man with brown eyes and a mabari named Trinket.Also known as: that time Garrett Hawke drunkenly made a Farmer’s Only profile and accidentally met the love of his life.





	City Slicker

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways this started off on [tumblr](http://star--nymph.tumblr.com/post/160415268899/scatteringmyashes-starnymph) and spiraled quickly out of control once Star-Nymph said I could write this.
> 
> So here we are, 21k words later. 
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://scatteringmyashes.tumblr.com) for more Fenhawke bullshit.

Fenris had a routine and, except for holidays and certain birthdays, he never strayed from it. Not even on Saturdays. Upon waking, he drank a cup of coffee while reading the day’s news on his old computer, taking note of any weather changes and if there were major events coming up. Then he made himself a small breakfast, usually consisting of eggs, ham, and toast before going out to check on the chickens. 

Omelette was usually awake in the mornings, as well as Scrambled and Deviled. Over and Easy slept in late, but woke up when the rest of the brood -- a total of a dozen chickens -- began eating. Fenris would scatter feed for them, check on their water supply, and gather the eggs for the day. He cleaned out anything suspicious from the coop, made sure none of them were injured, and talked to them. 

Varric thought it was a bit weird that he talked to the chickens. Isabela found it humorous and Anders only came over when his damn cat was causing trouble. The rest of the town -- which was a good thirty minute drive away -- tended to only come out if they needed something from him or if he was buying something big from them. Fenris didn’t mind. He liked his solitude most of the time. 

After checking on the chickens, then Fenris would head to the fields. He had just enough land that watering, weeding, and the like would take him past noon at which point he would stumble back inside his home, starving and covered in dirt and who knew what else. This was when he’d take his first shower and do his T injection. Fenris would then gulp down a sandwich or three, fill up his water, and then go to the orchard. 

This was, even more than the chickens, his pride and glory. While it wasn’t really an orchard to be proud of by anyone else’s standards, the trees were the product of five year’s hard work and sheer determination. Fenris had yet to get a crop big enough to sell from it, keeping the small apples for himself or the chickens, but he loved it regardless. 

One day, he liked to imagine that he’d take walks through a vast orchard with the shade filtering through leaves. He’d be able to just reach up and snap an apple off of a branch, maybe toss one to someone walking beside him. 

Until that day happened, Fenris would just put extra love and care into the rapidly growing trees and dream. 

Still, Fenris would either collect any apples that were ready or make sure the trees would have apples to give him later in the season. He would head back to his small, three-room home, shower again, and then do one of two things. On good days, he’d budget and plan and send emails. The farm wasn’t very large and he only sold produce at the local farmer’s market, to the grocery store, and to one of three restaurants in town. So it required a bit of creativity not to starve to death or have his electricity shut off on him. 

Disregarding the first year, in which Varric’s good graces and sheer dumb luck prevented Fenris from dying in the Ferelden winter, Fenris hadn’t been doing too poorly. He did well enough to make himself a staple of the community, just as much as Anders’ dairy farm or Dorian’s library. Hell, Fenris got invited out to drink and actually spend time with people he called his friends. He could stay out however late he wanted and the only people who would get mad at him were the chickens. 

So on most days, he spent time making sure that it stayed that way. 

But sometimes he would need something to take the stress down, something to remind him that he was in control of his life even if the weather, his own chickens, or market prices disagreed. On those days, Fenris would pull out a battered bowl, an old wooden spoon, and rummage through his fridge. Then he would bake. 

Perhaps calling it baking was too simple. He would create all manner of concoctions. The first time he had tried a pie, even Varric had trouble swallowing it. Now, Fenris was the semi-proud holder of the title of Haven’s Best Baker. Semi-proud, because he felt a rush of shame whenever he got into his head and ended up with two dozen cookies, three pies, and four sheets of muffins. And that was on a good day. 

“Elf, some people turn to alcohol or drugs or sex to cope. You _bake._ There’s no shame in that,” Varric would say while munching on a cookie or taking a piece of aforementioned pie. Fenris thought he was a bit biased, but he was proud that he hadn’t fallen to drink to try to solve his problems. It had only taken a few bad hangovers and shitty days to get the lesson across that farming with a hangover was a terrible idea. 

Regardless, after that portion of his afternoon it would usually be time for dinner, if not past time. Dinner was usually soup, pasta, or leftovers depending on how much energy Fenris had left.

Then, curled up in front of his old computer that only worked about half the time, he’d pull up his Farmer’s Only account, and see if he had any new notifications.

It had started as a joke, really. Well, okay, it had started from one conversation with Isabela where Fenris admitted that he was a little lonely. The chickens were great and -- on weekends and special occasions where he drove into the town -- so were the people but. _But._ Fenris wanted more. 

He had never been in a relationship before and he doubted he’d be any good, but that didn’t stop him from lurking around and hoping someone messaged him first.

And oh, Fenris got plenty of messages from people. Indeed, a surprising amount considering the white tattoos that stood out against his deep brown skin and the fact that his interests were baking, chickens, and reading. But most of the conversations petered out after a few days, mostly because Fenris was bad at talking about anything that wasn’t the farm and his own disinclination to ever actually meet someone. 

People on a website like Farmer’s Only wanted long term relationships, wanted to get to know others and meet their parents and ride horses. Fenris might be a farmer, but he hated horses, he didn’t know where his family was, and he wasn’t even sure he liked people, let alone wanted to shack up with someone and get married. These things, or at least the last part, became rather apparent with a little bit of time.

Really, Fenris knew he should have given up months ago. But instead he kept checking and he kept talking to people, as if things would change. 

It was first few days of fall when Garrett Hawke sent his first message. 

\----

While he might have grown up in Lothering, which was a primarily farming and all around small town kind of town, Garrett Hawke had never really been much for that kind of life. He liked his air conditioning, his nice car and his equally nice flat. There wasn’t a ton of space for Trinket, which meant Hawke was forced to go on runs every night with the aforementioned dog, but it just kept Hawke fit so he couldn’t complain too much. 

It was on a drunken dare that he made the profile on Farmer’s Only. Zevran had been visiting with his boyfriend and, after a few rounds of shots and too much beer for Hawke’s liver to be happy, a late night ad for Farmer’s Only had popped up. 

“How many people do you think actually use a site like that,” Zevran wondered, gesturing with his bottle. Hawke had laughed. Then he had gotten his laptop, signed up for the one month free trial, and uploaded a photo. 

“This is stupid,” Carver had complained. 

“This is hilarious,” Mahariel had replied, getting up. “Anyone else want another beer?” 

The rest of the night was spent filling out any number of boxes, answering dozens of questions, and then scrolling through even more profiles and liking the ones that were interesting. Zevran had suggested that Hawke upload one of his post-workout, shirtless photos but that had been vetoed by Mahariel in exchange for one of Hawke in flannel, an axe over one shoulder. 

“You want to look like a farmer. There’s nothing more farmer than that,” Mahariel pointed out. It was actually a photo from the one time Carver and Bethany had dragged him out to cut down a Satinalia tree. Hawke had gotten tired about halfway through and Carver had finished all the hard work. 

But it was a good photo, even if it was a few years old, and Hawke had uploaded it with some mostly well-meaning nagging from his brother and Zevran. Mostly. He thought. 

By the end, Hawke had sent over thirty messages and looked at hundreds of profiles. Zevran kept telling him to ask the attractive guys if he could ride them like they rode their horses, which, while hilarious, was probably a bad way to actually talk to people. Not like Hawke was _actually_ looking for a date but still. He didn’t want to be reported for sexual harassment. 

In the morning, his head was swimming and he could hardly remember anything that happened last night. 

Hawke wandered into the kitchen, scratching at his chin with a pounding headache. Zevran was sitting at the table, feeding Mahariel a bit of omelette as Carver sulked in the small kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Thank the Maker,” Hawke muttered as he took the coffee pot and poured himself a generous amount. He wasn’t expecting his brother to slide his phone over with a glare. “What?” Hawke winced; his own voice was a little too loud. 

“Your damn phone kept buzzing. Turn off your alerts next time,” Carver grumbled. Hawke rolled his eyes and checked it. 

He had over three hundred email notifications. All of them were from Farmer’s Only. Hawke groaned and went to go get his laptop. This was going to be interesting. 

Much to the amusement of Zevran -- who was pulled away by a less amused Mahariel -- Hawke did, indeed, go through each message and each notification. A lot of people were, apparently, interested in a bisexual bear even if he lived in the city. He mentioned that he had a mabari which gained the approval of everyone who was worth talking to, lamented the fact that he worked in an office, and talked about how he hadn’t gone camping since he was a kid.

It was a little startling how many invitations he got to go camping after that. 

Hawke really expected the appeal to wear off after a few days and so did his brother and just about anyone who heard Carver complain about the fact that his older brother was on his laptop _all the fucking time, seriously Garrett what is so fun about talking to a bunch of farmers?_ But that was it. Hawke enjoyed talking to other people, he always had, and that was all this was. 

He didn’t plan on meeting up with anyone, and a lot of the conversations died off after a few days, but there was one person that Hawke eagerly awaited replies to every day. Or, well, every night. 

Broodofchickens12, real name Fenris, was an elf who lived in a small town called Haven that Hawke had to look up -- it was in Ferelden and just over two hundred miles from Lothering, which really had been in the middle of nowhere and gave Hawke a bit of an idea of the kind of life Fenris lived. Hawke thought that it sounded kind of nice, if difficult, to spend most of the day tending crops and chickens but Fenris seemed to like it well enough. 

The most unfortunate part of Fenris’ schedule was that it meant he couldn’t talk for most of the day, depriving Hawke of his witty comments and dry humor. He caught himself looking through their chats more than once, chuckling to himself in the middle of work before glancing around and hoping no one saw. 

He was pretty sure that Cullen had at least once, but Cullen hadn’t brought it up so Hawke figured it was fine. 

_My neighbor’s cat continues to be a nusence,_ Fenris wrote. _*Nuisance. My apologies. Words are difficult._

_It’s fine!_ Hawke replied, grinning into his beer as he typed, ignoring the look his brother was giving him. _What did the cat do this time?_ It was a little unbelievable that the cat in question was named Ser-Pounce-A-Lot, but Carver also had named his childhood goldfish ‘Squirt’ so Hawke had heard of weirder pet names.

_It continues to torment my chickens. If Anders does not control it better, I will egg his house._ Fenris’ irritation seeped into his words. Hawke got the sense that this was a threat that he made on many occasions. _But enough about me. How was your day, Hawke?_

There was something almost intoxicating about the way Fenris typed and Hawke wondered if he spoke that way too. He would have a medium voice, maybe, if his pictures were anything to go by. They were all old, unfortunately, but that didn’t make him less attractive. His profile picture was him standing in front of a wood wall, chuckling at someone behind the camera with his arms crossed. He looked content, really, with emerald eyes catching the light just like the tattoos that curled up his chin and neck.

There was one other photo, a poorer quality one with the sun silhouetting him almost entirely. If Hawke looked close enough, he could just see white tattoos against brown skin as Fenris scattered what was presumably chicken feed for his numerous birds. Carver had seen it once and asked if Hawke was actually interested in someone who raised live animals. Hawke hadn’t been able to think of a clever response and just shoved his brother, which dissolved into a wrestling match but at least he didn’t have to answer the question. 

_Probably not as interesting as yours. I just sat in front of a computer all day,_ Hawke replied. _I’m glad I’m home. I’ve been neglecting Trinket._ The mabari in question was at Hawke’s side, stumpy tail wagging furiously as Hawke scratched behind one ear with his free hand. _Maybe you should get a pet mabari! They’re incredibly loyal and they make great friends. Plus one could keep you warm in the winter._

_If only my problems could be solved by buying a large dog,_ Fenris typed back. _Also, are you not in front of a computer now?_

_… I’m not replying to that. And all problems can be solved by buying a mabari. They’re different than dogs._

_I am unfamiliar with the difference._

Hawke paused and looked at Trinket, who glanced up now that his ear scratches were stopped. 

“He doesn’t know the difference between a dog and a mabari, boy. Is he still worth talking to?” Hawke half-joked. Trinket whined and licked his hand, apparently more concerned with tangible matters. Hawke chuckled and went back to scratching him. 

_If you would care to teach me, I would not mind._ And then, directly underneath those messages: _I enjoy talking to you, Hawke._

“Are you ok?” Carver asked. “You’re making a weird wheezing noise so you either are choking or Chicken Boy sent you a dick pic.” 

Hawke threw the closest unbreakable object at him. It was a pen and he missed by a mile, but Carver still rolled his eyes and called him childish. 

“I’m not the one talking about dick pics!” Hawke shouted as his brother disappeared back into the living room. “I’m not,” he told Trinket, who seemed fed up with these interruptions and lumbered away. Hawke huffed and pretended like the idea of getting a picture of Fenris -- dick or not -- wouldn’t make his entire day. 

_Oh boy, you don’t realize what you just offered. Most people know better than to let a Ferelden talk about dogs. They don’t call us Dog Lords for nothing._

_I suppose that would make me the Chicken King._ Hawke snorted. He couldn't help it. He just imagined Fenris in a throne surrounded by chickens. He told Fenris as much. _You have never met Hard Boiled. She would peck at my toes until I gave her the throne._

There is something inexplicably humorous about a man who has named his chickens after different ways to cook eggs. 

The two proceeded to discuss a kingdom of chickens in which Fenris was the steward and in charge of the care and keeping of said chickens. Hawke didn’t know that chickens were intelligent enough to have personalities, but Fenris never hesitated whenever asked about his brood.

_Omelette would be a very good knight. She’s always awake in the mornings and she keeps the others in line. Over and Easy are lazy and sleep too much._

_So they’d be the drunks of the kingdom?_

_I do not know if chickens can get drunk, but that is an apt metaphor._

Hawke laughed even as another alert popped up. Someone else had messaged him. He ignored it for now.

_Well the neighboring kingdom of mabari is filled with lazy mabari who only like to eat treats and nap._

_Sounds like the perfect place for Over and Easy._ A pause. Three little dots appeared, then vanished as if Fenris was not sure what to say. _Would you be the king of this land?_

_Maker, no. Trinket makes all the decisions in my house. Just ask my brother._

_You have a brother?_ That, of course, spawned a conversation about the Hawke family. Bethany and Carver featured heavily in his Facebook photos, so it was easy to send a few of them to Fenris though the Farmer’s Only chat. Of course, there were the obligatory holiday photos and birthday photos, though Garrett was careful to make sure he looked okay in all of them. 

He probably should have been a little surprised at his own eagerness to share. It had only been a few months since he and Fenris began talking, though it was almost Satinalia so Hawke was in a family sort of mood. 

_What about you?_ Hawke asked after sharing the story about the time Carver had gotten stuck in a tree after trying to impress the girl next door. _Do you have any siblings?_

_Yes._ A moment. _No._ Hawke wasn’t sure what to make of the answer. _I have not talked to her in a long time. I do not even know where she is. We were never close._

It sounded sad but Hawke got the sense that he shouldn’t pry. 

_Well, you have your chickens to watch out for so I’m sure they take up most of your time. Are you getting them Satinalia gifts?_

_They get extra treats. One of my neighbors attempted to make Satinalia sweaters for them. It did not go well._

“Hey, Gar, are you gonna be on your laptop all night ‘cause some of us actually want to use the couch to watch television. Like a normal person,” Carver complained. Garrett flipped him off but did move to his bedroom. “No jacking off to weird text sex or whatever while I’m here or I’ll kick your ass,” Carver shouted as he left. 

The threat was unnecessary, as Hawke sat down only to see Fenris had sent him a goodnight message. It wasn’t that late in Haven, if Hawke’s math was correct, and usually Fenris stayed later. _I hope I didn’t scare him off talking about family._

\----

“I don’t see your problem,” Isabela said as she winked at Merrill from across the room. “He has a family, you don’t, so what? You want a family, he has one. The solution should be obvious even to you.” 

“It is complicated,” Fenris tried to point out. He wasn’t sure if Isabela was even paying attention. She had been flirting for months with Merrill. The only surprising part was that they hadn’t slept together yet. “He is so cavalier with his family. They -- there is no question of _whether_ anyone else has one but rather _how big_ they have.” 

“You told him that you don’t have one though.” Krem was drinking with them that night. His boss, the Iron Bull, was on a date with his boyfriend and the majority of the Chargers -- Haven’s only adult club soccer team -- were pounding back shots on the other side of the bar. 

“That -- yes, I told him,” Fenris admitted. Krem gave him a friendly pat on the back. “Ugh. I should have deleted my profile months ago.”

“You would just be sad and miserable up on your farm with no dreams of a big, muscular man to talk with you or cuddle with you or hold you down and --” 

“Isabela,” Fenris interrupted, rolling his eyes. Isabela chuckled and took a drink. It was either her first or her fifth. Regardless, she seemed right as rain.

“What? You showed me the pictures of him. If you weren’t interested…” She licked her lips. “Yum.” 

“Why do I get the feeling that the problem is more on your end than you’re letting on?” Krem asked, raising an eyebrow. Fenris motioned vaguely in the air. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

For a moment, Fenris wondered if this conversation would be better drunk. The answer? Probably. But he had to get up early tomorrow to drive to the farmer’s market and that would _not_ be easier hungover. 

“It’s foolish, but I believe I am developing feelings.” Fenris let out a choked-off cry as Krem smacked him on the back.

“Good for you, recognizing that,” Krem said. Fenris realized that he was being genuine. He might have been a real member of society for five years but he still missed things from time to time. Thankfully everyone was very understanding, even if they didn’t know his exact situation. “Now what are you going to do about it?” 

“I was not planning on --”

“Come on, Fenris, you’ve got to do something about it,” Krem cut him off. “This guy -- Hawke -- he’s the first guy you’ve had eyes on since you got here, yeah?”

“He’s the first person Fenris has ever had eyes on,” Isabela replied for Fenris, a very suggestive smile on her face. “Not that I blame him. Krem, have you seen the photos Hawke has on his profile?” Unfortunately no, Krem had not seen any pictures of Hawke. So Isabela went through her messages with Fenris and showed Krem the ones Fenris had freaked out about the most, which were the flannel-and-an-axe photo and one from a few years ago, a summer birthday party where Hawke’s swim shorts clung to _very_ nice hips.

Krem snorted as he glanced from the phone screen to Fenris’ blushing face. It wasn’t Fenris’ fault that Hawke just happened to be an attractive, muscular man! 

“I almost asked why his shirt was so weird in this picture, but then I realize it was his chest hair,” Krem deadpanned. Fenris facepalmed even as Isabela burst into laughter. He didn’t even have to ask to know which photo Krem was looking at. 

Fenris may or may not have stared at it for a while, wondering if it was considered rude to do certain, ah, activities to a friend’s photo. He decided against it, largely because his computer chair was not the most comfortable of places to do such a thing. 

Not like anyone needed to know.

“He certainly would be nice to cuddle beside on a cold winter night. You wouldn’t need a blanket; he’s got one on him already,” Krem teased. He nudged Fenris, who was refusing to look at either of his friends. “Cheer up, it’s not like we’re going to be like this when you bring him around.” 

That got Fenris’ attention. 

“You think Hawke will ever be here?” He asked, eyebrow raising. 

“You obviously like him and if he talks to you every day, he obviously likes you,” Isabela pointed out. “You should invite him here for First Day. Or, oh, maybe Wintersend? Varric always organizes a good celebration --”

“I am not going to invite Hawke,” Fenris protested. 

“Why not? You liked it here well enough.” Krem wasn’t wrong. Fenris had never pictured a future on a farm with chickens, but he hadn’t really pictured much of anything when he was with Danarius. 

But that didn’t stop the fact that Haven was so small, there was only one school and two teachers. The inhabitants all knew each other by reputation at least. Varric, the mayor, stopped by the pub to drink with everyone and regularly let people slide by on rent by beating him in card games. The nearest mall was a good hour and a half drive away and if you wanted to see a movie, you might as well try to download it online because going to the movie theater was a major deal.

For someone who lived in a city most of his life, whose only brush with nature was walks with his mabari, who drank Starbucks and went to the beach on family vacations, Haven would be a nightmare. Fenris wasn’t stupid enough to think that Hawke would like it in the slightest.

“Can we change the topic?” Fenris complained. There must have been something serious enough in his voice because it did the trick. Krem and Isabela barely exchanged a glance as Krem started complaining about the Iron Bull and Isabela ordered another round for the table. Well, for her and Krem. Fenris had to drive back to his farm. 

His farm, where he lived with a dozen chickens and spotty Internet and no heating or air conditioning in his small house. It wasn’t perfect and it wasn’t somewhere he could bring Hawke, but it was _his._

Fenris woke up the next morning, double-checked his chickens would be good for the day, and drove to the Sunday farmer’s market. His booth was next to Anders’ and Merrill’s stands and unfortunately far from Sera’s, which consisted entirely of bee-produced or related items. Fenris liked to get candles from there, partially because they made a nice smell when they burned and partially because he was actually friends with her. 

“Oh, Fenris, you look terrible!” Merrill, on the other hand, managed to get on all of Fenris’ nerves at the same time for inexplicable reasons. “Did you not sleep enough? I have the perfect tea for that, if you --” 

“My problems cannot be solved with tea, flowers, or crystals,” Fenris told her not for the first time, eyes narrowing as he set about organizing the spinach crates and ensuring that the kale wasn’t put there by accident. His fields weren’t the biggest, but he had enough to rotate what he grew and have a bit of variety. Besides, there were some staples that always sold well. 

“If you just tried --” 

“Don’t bother wasting your time talking to Fenris about your… techniques,” Anders said from his stall, safely behind a row of milk bottles. “He would argue about the color of the sky if you gave him the chance.” 

As he did every Sunday, Fenris wondered if Varric would give him another spot in the market. _Perhaps if I beg enough… or give him enough eggs for free._ He could always try winning a different stall in a card game, but that would require better luck than Fenris had… or, rather, better luck at cheating at cards. 

Fortunately, Fenris was able to busy himself in set-up and the others were also busy, right up until the market opened for the public. 

Most of the shoppers were citizens of Haven who wanted something very specific that wasn’t offered at the grocery store or older customers from nearby towns and cities who drove in for the experience. Regardless, Fenris always made a good profit and it provided immediate cash whereas his deals with Cassandra -- who ran the grocery store -- and Vivienne -- who owned a tea shop -- were monthly sources of income. 

One of the first things Fenris had learned about farming was that every moment of time was precious. The second thing was that having multiple ways of making money was absolutely essential. 

“Hey, Fenris,” the Iron Bull called out as he walked over. One arm was already laden with goodies, the bag close to bursting, but there was a mostly empty one thrown over his other arm. “Got anything good for me today?” 

“Hello, Bull. It depends. Are you cooking for the Chargers or for Dorian?” Fenris asked. 

“Ha! Both, if you can believe it.” Bull had weekly dinners for his crew of misfits, which Fenris only knew because he had been invited several times upon arriving at Haven. He still could come if he wanted, but he liked eating alone and besides, he wasn’t on the team so he always felt out of place no matter how hard they tried to include him. 

“Right. You might want to look at these potatoes…” 

The rest of the market passed in similar fashion. There was a bit of drama when Anders’ cat knocked over one of Merrill’s displays and crack one of the already-cracked crystals. Merrill said it was a bad sign and insisted on cleansing the cat through a ritual which Anders kept decrying as either unholy or unnatural. Fenris, stuck between the two, grit his teeth and reminded himself that manslaughter at the Sunday farmer’s market was not a good idea. 

Too many witnesses, after all. 

He was looking forward to going home and relaxing in front of his computer with a nice cup of tea. Maybe he’d read a little to the chickens before hand if there was still light out. But once he was home, he’d be able to complain to Hawke who would laugh at all his jokes and reassure him that everything did sound horrible but, yes, it was a good idea not to kill anyone. 

Fenris drove up to his house right as the sun was setting, a thick wad of cash in his bag, his mostly empty truck trudging along with its ancient engine. It took only a half hour to unload what was left, reheat some soup, and calculate the exact profit from the day before booting up the internet.

_Hey, I don’t know when you’ll get on today but I saw this and thought of you!_ Attached was a photo of a large stuffed chicken. Its face was about as displeased as a chicken could get and Fenris was torn between being amused and offended. 

_I got it but Trinket’s sad he can’t have it…_ An image of the chicken, placed precariously on a sofa, with Trinket looking at it. Indeed, Trinket did look forlorn. 

Fenris chuckled and continued scrolling. There was another picture, the chicken having been relocated to Hawke’s bedroom, and then a selfie. Hawke wasn’t really visible in it, just his ratty Kirkwall Dragon’s T-shirt and a bit of his arms, with the chicken nestled in his lap. 

_Named him Broody. Fun to cuddle, but I bet you’d be more fun._ It sat there, innocently, in Fenris and Hawke’s chat history. There was absolutely nothing suggestive about it, nothing that would have made Isabela wolf whistle or Fenris want to touch himself. 

But he still couldn’t fight off the blush that roared onto his face and he curled his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms as he stared at the message.

_Fun to cuddle, but I bet you’d be more fun._ It stared at him. A single sentence that baffled Fenris entirely. He had no idea how to respond. 

_There you are! I was wondering when you’d get on._ Hawke had noticed that Fenris was online. Fenris wondered if Hawke was this proactive with everyone he talked to. Did Hawke even talk to other people on this hell site? Surely he did. There was no way someone as attractive, witty, charming, and honest as Hawke didn’t have dozens of admirers. 

There was no way Fenris could compete with any of them. He had just spent the whole day selling vegetables and glaring at his next door neighbor and tomorrow he was going to do the same thing he did almost every day of the week. He would get up, make breakfast, and then go check on his chickens. 

Why would Garrett Hawke ever be interested in someone like Fenris? How had Fenris deluded himself into thinking that he could capture Hawke’s attention? 

Feeling a rush of shame and despair, Fenris logged off and shut down his computer. He slept poorly that night. 

\--

Hawke wasn’t sure what had happened. One day, he and Fenris were talking every night. They traded sharp comments for dry laughs and complained about both of their lives, though their complaints were much different. He considered Fenris a good friend at the least and had toyed, more than once, about whether it would be appropriate to invite Fenris to Kirkwall for First Day or another holiday. Each time, Hawke dissuaded himself with the growing knowledge of how much work farms took. It wasn’t like Fenris could just take a vacation whenever he wanted. 

But then Hawke had bought a stupid chicken and, for three weeks, Fenris didn’t send a single word. 

It wasn’t like his internet had died or his computer had spontaneously exploded. No, Fenris was still checking his profile if the _last seen online_ indicator was true at all. But he didn’t talk to Hawke. He didn’t reply to any of Hawke’s messages -- though Hawke stopped sending them after day three -- and he didn’t make any indication that he was ignoring Hawke for a reason. Not like having a reason would have helped, but at least then Hawke would have known what he did wrong. 

By the second week, Hawke was ready to send apology flowers or fly to Haven himself, fuck it. He missed Fenris. He missed their banter, he missed Fenris’ commentary on Carver’s latest mishap or Cullen’s lack of people skills. He missed relaxing in front of his laptop, a beer or soda in one hand and his dog by his side. He was so gloomy that Carver went as far as to ask if he had been dumped by his online boyfriend.

“We weren’t dating,” Hawke argued, only to get an eye roll back. But that planted the seeds of that train of thought. Had Fenris thought that Hawke wanted more and panicked? Had Hawke even wanted more than friendship? He hadn’t joined Farmer’s Only to look for someone. Hell, he didn’t even use it to do anything other than talk to Fenris. They hadn’t traded phone numbers or added each other on Facebook -- that seemed too real, too personal. Now Hawke was regretting the missed opportunity. 

“How do you know when you’re dating someone?” Hawke asked Zevran the next time the elf was over. Zevran had a hearty laugh at that.

“Why, my dear friend, I did not know you thought of me like that! I will talk to Mahariel; he may be amicable to including you in our relationship given your,” Zevran eyed Hawke appreciatively, “assets.” Then Zevran realized Hawke was being serious. “Well, usually you talk to the other person -- or people -- and come to an agreement. Why? Who is it that you have your eye on?” 

“Garrett’s been flirting with an elf online and now he’s grumpy because the guy won’t talk to him anymore,” Carver explained between handfuls of popcorn. Just for that, Garrett stole the bowl. “Oi!” 

“Tattle-tale brothers don’t get popcorn,” he announced, proceeding to gorge himself on it. 

“Oh, Garrett, this wouldn’t happen to be anyone you met through that website -- what was it? Farmer’s Exclusive?” 

“Farmer’s Only,” Hawke admitted, not looking at Zevran.

“Ahha, I knew it! Mahariel owes me a blowjob.” He raised an eyebrow at the two looks he got. “What? It isn’t fun betting anything else. Besides, I knew Garrett would find someone on that site. Why else do you think I encouraged you to join, my friend?” Zevran nudged Garrett in the side. Begrudgingly, Garrett let him have some popcorn.

_My friends suck,_ he thought. 

It was on the third week, coming home from a wild First Day party, that Hawke fell into his bed and stared up at his ceiling and realized that he had fallen for someone whose username was _Broodofchickens12._

He had never seen Fenris in person. He had never heard Fenris laugh or seen Fenris glare at his neighbor’s cat. He didn’t know if Fenris snored or if he was a neat freak. He didn’t know if Fenris kicked in his sleep or hogged or the blankets. Fenris could have horrible habits and Hawke wouldn’t know. 

But Hawke wanted to know. He wanted to see how Fenris’ hair stuck up after sleeping and help him cook dinner in a too-small kitchen. He wanted to be domestic which was how he knew he had it bad. Lusting after someone was one thing. That was easy. But for every moment Hawke thought about how nice it would be to trace those white tattoos with his tongue, Hawke was also daydreaming about wrapping his hands around a cup of warm coffee and watching Fenris go tend the chickens. 

_This is hopeless,_ Hawke thought as he rolled over in bed, burying his face into the pillows. _Maybe if I suffocate myself I won’t have to worry about my feelings._

The next day, Hawke had a message from Fenris. 

_My apologies,_ it read. _I will not give you empty excuses as to why I did not reply. You did not deserve that and I understand that you are likely angry, but if you will let me I would like to continue talking._

Hawke took a gulp of his coffee, ignoring the way it burned down his throat. He needed more than coffee to get through this, but he had to drive to work. 

_Did I do something wrong?_

_No._ The reply came far faster than Hawke had anticipated. Usually Fenris was working by now. _I overreacted to your messages and by the time I had come to my senses, I was too embarrassed by my silence to apologize._

_I won’t say anything like that again,_ Hawke typed even though he wanted anything but. 

_No, I liked it. I was just surprised._ The three dots jumped up and down and Hawke set his phone aside, trying to finish breakfast so he wouldn’t be late to work. Fenris typed for a while. The messages finally went through once Hawke was at the door, tying his shoes. _I think it would be easier if we talked on the phone. When are you free tonight? I can call you._

Hawke’s heart did its best to jump out of his chest. His first, slightly irrational thought was that he would finally be able to hear what Fenris sounded like. The second was that this was the prelude to a serious conversation, either a ‘we should start dating’ or ‘we should never talk again’ sort of chat. 

_Tonight works. Here’s my number._

They ended up deciding that Fenris would call that night, messaging Hawke on Farmer’s Only first to make sure he’s still up for it. Before they part, Hawke running late for work, he couldn’t hold back the urge to send another few messages. 

_I missed our talks,_ Hawke admitted. _You’re a good friend and I missed you._ He wondered, a second after he sent it, if this was too much. If Fenris was going to disappear for another few weeks. 

_I enjoy talking to you, Hawke._

For the rest of the day, Hawke couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. 

\---- 

There were a few things Fenris just didn’t tell people. The first was that he was transgender. Krem knew, though only because he was unabashedly out and a kindred spirit for Fenris. So did Isabela, Varric, and the Iron Bull, the doctor and pharmacist for Haven. But Fenris passed and even when people did see him shirtless, his white tattoos essentially hid the raised, dark scars from top surgery. 

Most didn’t know. Fenris preferred it that way.

The second thing Fenris didn’t tell people was that he had arrived at Haven after driving as far away as he could in a stolen truck, bleeding from a head wound as he tried to escape an abusive relationship. Fenris could still remember that night. He had been certain that Danarius was trying to kill him. After finding out that Fenris had been lingering at the library to talk to some of the workers there without telling him, Danarius had flown into a rage. 

It didn’t matter that Danarius was physically weaker. When he began screaming and lashing out, Fenris froze. After enduring Danarius for what felt like as long as he could remember, it had taken what was most likely a concussion to get Fenris to sneak out of the house at the dead of night, steal the truck, and leave. 

No one knew the whole story. Even if they guessed at something similar, no one had ever asked, not even Varric. Bull, as the one who took care of Fenris those first few weeks, might have had suspicions but he had never pushed. Only offered support and an open door if Fenris ever needed someone to talk to. It was thanks to him that Fenris befriended Krem, who along with Isabela had the place of Fenris’ best friend.

Except for Hawke. 

_You can do this,_ Fenris told himself as he fiddled with his old phone. He didn’t have to tell Hawke everything, just the important parts. _But what’s important? How much do I talk about Danarius?_ In Fenris’ mind, that conversation would go one of two ways. Either Hawke would think him disgusting, weak and used and not worth anyone’s time or Hawke would pity Fenris and treat him like a child.

Neither were very attractive options and Fenris didn’t even know if it would be too much too soon. _He needs to know why you couldn’t reply. Why you were a coward._

And if he didn’t mention Danarius, then what else could he say? _Oh yes, my apologies Hawke. It is just that no one has ever treated me with kindness and acted as if I am worth flirting with in the last ten or so years, so you caught me off guard._

_By the way, I’m also transgender and I understand you identify as bisexual but if you treat me like a woman I will…_

Fenris frowned. He picked up his phone and texted Krem. Fortunately, the Chargers didn’t have practice and Krem replied almost immediately.

_What’s up?_ It shone up at him, burning his eyes and reminding Fenris that he needed to turn some lights on before it was pitch black.

_Do you tell people you are transgender when you express interest in them?_ He sent it and then, thinking about it, added, _Interested in a romantic sense._

_If I think it’s serious then yeah, I do. Why? You talking to your online man?_ That was -- that was not how Fenris would describe his relationship with Hawke, but he couldn’t say that it was entirely incorrect. Before Fenris replied, Krem sent another text. _If you want, tell him. But you don’t need to tell anyone if you don’t want to._

_He will find out eventually,_ Fenris pointed out before wincing. Was that too personal? He didn’t know what would count as ‘too much’ with Krem. They were friends, but Fenris did not have a very good baseline for that. He didn’t have a good baseline for anything. 

_Still don’t have to tell him until you want,_ Krem typed. 

Fenris snorted. _If only it were that easy,_ he thought. Fenris swallowed and sat down in front of his computer, booting it up and wincing at the noise it made. Most likely, it would need to be replaced soon. It was old when he got the house but he hadn’t really needed anything better -- all he used it for was the news, a few emails, and his Farmer’s Only account… which he might not need soon. 

Fenris refused to entertain that line of thought as he got on the aforementioned website. Hawke was already on, the little green dot next to his name almost taunting Fenris. He took a deep breath and messaged Hawke, asking if it was okay to call now. 

_Sure! Oh, here’s my number in case you forgot._ The number was only a few lines of text back, but Fenris couldn’t help but smile even as he typed it into his phone. His finger hovered over the call button. This was his last chance to back out. Something could happen. An emergency with -- with the chickens, maybe. Hawke knew how much the chickens meant to Fenris. 

But that was a cop out, a way of kicking this problem further down the line so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Eventually Fenris would have to decide if he wanted to just be friends or… or if he wanted to be something more. 

Assuming Hawke even wanted more. He did right? _If he does not, this worrying will have been pointless,_ Fenris mused as he hit call.

The phone rang for about a second before Hawke picked up.

“Hey,” he said and _Andraste_ was his voice nice. It was like warm caramel, deep and sweet and promising comfort and Fenris found himself resisting the very real urge to hang up. “Fenris?” 

It took him a moment to unstick his tongue from the top of his mouth and he found himself wishing that he had the foresight to pour himself a glass of water. But he didn’t hang up and he didn’t push the conversation back. 

“Hello, Hawke. Thank you for -- are you all right?” Fenris frowned. It sounded like Hawke had just choked on something and he was now coughing violently. 

“N-No, I’m fine! Sorry, I just got an, uh, an itch. In my throat.” Hawke cleared his throat. “So, uh, you wanted to talk?” _Right._

“Yes, I did… You deserve an explanation for the last three weeks.” Fenris hesitated. _Now or never. Can you do this?_ He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. _Yes I can._ “I have been living in Haven for the last five years. Before that, I lived with… with my boyfriend. He was --”

“Fenris, you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Hawke cut in. Fenris found himself flaring up in irrational anger -- Hawke didn’t mean it in a condescending way and he certainly didn’t know how hard this was for Fenris -- but instead of lashing out he took another deep breath. 

“I need to tell you this.” Fenris paused, waiting to see if Hawke had anything else he wanted to say. When nothing came, Fenris continued. “I was dating someone for… for many years. His name was Danarius. He was abusive. I… A great deal happened. I was with him for too long. Eventually I left him and arrived at Haven with only my truck. The mayor, Varric, helped me. I have been here ever since.” The words were a gross oversimplification but Fenris didn’t have it in him to go into anymore detail. 

He decided not to tell Hawke about being trans, not yet at least. That would be a conversation for another day -- if Hawke remained around, of course. 

There was a moment of silence, Hawke’s breathing into the phone the only reassurance Fenris got that Hawke hadn’t hung up on him. Fenris waited for what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds before breaking.

“Hawke? I did not mean to upset you. If you would rather not talk to me again...” Fenris wouldn’t really understand, but he knew that he was a bit broken and a bit _much_ for most people. It was why he didn’t tell people things very often. He didn’t feel like it would be fair to burden them. There was no reason for Hawke to be any different.

“No, shit, Fenris I… I’m just trying to calm down, sorry.” Somehow, that made Fenris feel even worse. He had upset Hawke, no doubt infuriating him by being a waste of his time. “The idea that someone hurt you pisses me off. A lot. I’m trying not to punch a wall.” Fenris blinked. He -- was Hawke being serious? It sounded like it and now was hardly the time for his usual humor and sarcasm. “You didn’t deserve any of that.” 

It was silly, really, how much those words meant to Fenris.

He swallowed down reassurance that it was fine, that it didn’t matter, because Fenris knew that wasn’t true. What he had gone through with Danarius still affected him. That was why he baked to distract himself from the memories, why he enjoyed talking to his chickens more than he enjoyed talking to most people. Why he was a farmer in the middle of Ferelden of all places, a nation he had no ties to except for the plants he had cultivated. 

“Fenris? Are you still there?” Hawke asked. Fenris tightened his grip on the phone.

“Yes. Thank you, Hawke. For…” Not for understanding, because no one could truly understand what he had gone through. “For listening.” There. That was good. 

“Of course. I… That’s what friends are for, right?” _Just friends. That’s fine._ Fenris managed to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling disappointed at all. After all, it wasn’t like they had talked about being anything more. “I mean, unless… Ah, no, never mind.”

Fenris frowned. “What were you going to say?” He asked, leaning back a little. It was too dark to see out his window, but he could hear Omelette clucking at one of the other chickens. _Most likely Hard Boiled attempting to gain control of the coop._

“Oh, no, it’s nothing. How was your day?” Hawke’s attempt at changing the subject was so transparent that Fenris couldn’t help but smile a little. He shifted, feeling a lot more relaxed now that the hard part of the conversation was over. He would tell Hawke about being trans another day. 

“It was good. The chickens are moody because it’s warming up and they have too much energy, but the orchard is going to bloom soon. I am looking forward to seeing how the crop is this year.” Fenris wondered if he could send a pie to Kirkwall. Theoretically he could, but he didn’t think the post office would be very happy with him. 

“You should take pictures!” Hawke was grinning, Fenris assumed. He had the kind of voice that was so expressive, Fenris didn’t even need to see his face. Not that Fenris would be opposed to seeing Hawke’s face, only… he didn’t need to. 

That was a strange realization. 

“Now that we have each other’s phone numbers, we can text and stuff. Uh, if you have texting. I don’t want to assume --”

“No, Hawke, I don’t text. I exist purely by emailing my friends and sending telegrams and letters through the pony express,” Fenris deadpanned. Hawke barked out a laugh, then there was real barking as Trinket caught on. 

“Hold on -- Trinket, down!” Fenris listened, an amused smile on his face, as Hawke shepherded the mabari in question away. “So sorry about that,” Hawke said. There was the sound of him laying down. _On his bed or on a couch?_ Fenris’ mind wondered. “Trinket decided he wanted to say hello.” 

“I am sure if you listen carefully enough, you can hear my chickens arguing amongst themselves,” Fenris replied. Hawke laughed again. Fenris wondered if it was easy to make Hawke laugh or if they just shared a sense of humor. Krem and Isabela found Fenris funny enough, but humorous was hardly a character trait most would assign Fenris. 

_No, you’re much more likely to be called broody or melancholy,_ Fenris thought. 

Still, Fenris managed to make Hawke laugh five more times in their hour and a half long conversation. He promised to text Hawke pictures of the farm, but only if Hawke sent pictures of his office and home. Hawke protested that his life was far more boring, but Fenris reminded him that he hadn’t seen a building over four stories tall in almost five years. 

“I’ll text you in the morning,” Hawke promised. “Good night, Fenris.” 

Fenris’ throat caught. He swallowed.

“Good night, Hawke. Sleep well.” 

\----

Hawke texted first thing in the morning, because Fenris was just making breakfast when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it with a bemused smile on his face, a little surprised but more than a little pleased. 

_Morning coffee!_ Attached was a picture of Hawke drinking out of a mug, his beard almost entirely obscured by a quite frankly horrendous _thing_ that seemed to be -- or, at least, was trying to be -- a dragon. It didn’t entirely succeed. 

_Is that a dragon?_ Fenris asked, just to be sure. 

_Yes! Carver got it for me._ Ah, that explained so much. 

Fenris wandered onto his porch and took a picture of his own cup of coffee, the chicken coop just in the background. _My morning is a bit more dreary,_ he wrote. There was a thick morning fog and still a few inches of snow on the ground. 

_Is that snow?!?!?! OMG I haven’t been in snow for years._

_Does it not snow in Kirkwall?_ Fenris replied as he went back inside to finish cooking the eggs. 

_Not like THAT. We get maybe two, three inches a year if we’re lucky._

Before he really knew what he was doing, Fenris almost invited Hawke to come visit before the rest of the snow melted. He blinked at his phone and quickly erased the message. _It is fine until you have to drive through it in order to buy bread,_ Fenris sent instead, a much more acceptable text in his opinion. 

_Never mind, I want to stay in Kirkwall where it’s nice and warm and we have air conditioning._ Fenris chuckled but another message came before he could reply. _Trinket would like it, He’s always been a fan of snow._ That just created images in Fenris’ head of the three of them walking in the orchard during winter, Hawke holding Fenris’ hand as Trinket bounded up and down in snowdrifts. 

Fenris had no idea when he had become so… so _domestic._ He imagined that Hawke might actually like it when he talked about the trees and the difficulty in growing them. Maybe Hawke wouldn’t mind that Fenris talked to the chickens -- Maker, Hawke already knew that Fenris did that, how strange could it be to see in person? 

_I have to go tend the farm, but I will text you when I am through,_ Fenris sent to Hawke after he finished breakfast. 

_Okay! Have a good day < 3_

Fenris stared at it. He decided he could deal with that later. The best course of action was, of course, to ignore it as much as possible and go about his daily business. 

“He’s a very strange man,” Fenris told Omelette as he threw out more chicken feed. The brood had surrounded him and his phone was back in the house, or he would have taken a picture for Hawke. 

In general, Fenris did not take pictures for other people. Hawke was an exception. Fenris was already thinking about what he would say, if he did see Fenris doing farmwork. No doubt he’d have some witty comment or funny caption idea, but not before reminding Fenris that Hawke was a City Boy and did not like the concept of not having good WiFi or Starbucks or -- 

“Fasta vass,” Fenris cursed as Scrambled pecked his toes. With his boots on it didn’t really hurt, but it was more the idea. “Really? I’m feeding you plenty.” Fenris threw out a few extra handfuls of feed anyway. 

When he was satisfied that his chickens would not starve to death, he put the feed away and went to go out to the fields. There was a surprising amount of vegetables that grew even with snow, so Fenris’ work was never done even in the coldest months. If anything, there was even more -- he had to be sure that snap frosts didn’t kill his entire harvest and the chill made his fingers numb even through the gloves he wore. 

He was still in the fields when he heard, rather than saw, a car coming down the road. Fenris squinted at it, the hood reflecting light almost as much as the thin layer of slush-once-snow around it. The car was too nice to be Anders’ and Varric always called ahead before coming out to the farm. Isabela’s was red and the Iron Bull and Krem both drove trucks. 

Confused, Fenris decided he could finish tending the fields after seeing who had arrived. He was utterly surprised when the car parked and Dorian Pavus, resident librarian and sort of school teacher, stepped out. 

Dorian and Fenris had an interesting relationship, in that Fenris needed to get along with him in order to check books out but also hated the fact that he was an arrogant bastard most days. For some reason, the Iron Bull had placed his love and adoration onto Dorian, so Fenris presumed he couldn’t be all bad. Just. A little. 

Regardless, Fenris was polite but on guard as he greeted his guest and asked if Dorian wanted to come inside. 

“Ah, maybe that would be for the best. I actually came to ask you a question, however.” Dorian hesitated, shifting from side to side and actually looking uncomfortable. Fenris could count on one hand the amount of times Dorian was anything other than suave and confident, and most of those times were thanks to the Iron Bull. “You see, ah, you’re known for your baking abilities.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” 

“And, ah, there’s the grocer’s and I suppose we could order from the city but quite frankly that’s an expense we don’t need and --” Dorian shook his head, a single golden earing catching the light. “Kaffas, this is why I told Bull that he should come out and ask, but he’s too busy --” Dorian looked straight at Fenris. “The Iron Bull and I are getting married and we would like you to bake our wedding cake.” 

Fenris waited for the punchline. Then he realized that Dorian was being completely serious. He sighed. The field was going to have to wait.

“You should come inside.” 

\----

“I cannot believe they asked you to bake them a cake. For their wedding! How good of a baker are you?” Hawke asked as he stared up at his ceiling and resolutely did not imagine actually going to the wedding with Fenris. Not at all. Definitely wasn’t picture what it would be like to fix Fenris’ bowtie or watch him look at people as they tried the cake. 

“Apparently better than I thought,” Fenris replied in that deep voice that did inappropriate things to Hawke. There was a moment of silence only punctuated by a soft sigh from Fenris. “I… was wondering something.” 

Hawke sat up, his bed shifting underneath. It had been a few days since their first ever phone call and he had learned that Fenris actually preferred to talk in person. Texting was an affair for him, since he was dyslexic and letters seemed to swim whenever his brain decided it wasn’t going to cooperate. Really, it just gave Hawke an excuse to talk to him over the phone, so he wasn’t complaining. 

“I am able to bring a second person to the wedding, but my friends are already invited and… It is a bit early to invite you to the wedding, perhaps, but if you wished to visit in the summer then we could talk about it more?” Hawke held his breath. “As friends, of course.” 

He resisted the urge to swear, hanging his head instead. Trinket whined and nuzzled him with a big, wet nose. _Just friends. Just friends._

“Only if you are interested. I have been thinking that you might like it here for a weekend. Trinket can terrorize my chickens and you can tell everyone that you have visited a farm like a good Ferelden.” Fenris said it in such a casual tone that Hawke, who was used to his sense of humor, almost missed the joke.

“I’ll only come if you agree to bring us galavanting in the woods on a moonlit night. You know, the full elven experience.” That earned a snort from Fenris. 

“The only thing we will be doing at night is sleeping or, if Isabela has her way, drinking.” A moment. “It, ah, is not what you are used to. The -- the quality of living, I mean.” Hawke was confused as Fenris clarified, “There are not the large commodities. We do not have a Starbucks and my house doesn’t have air conditioning. Half of the roads are dirt and the nearest airport is a two hour drive --” 

“Fenris. It’s okay. I want to visit.” A moment passed. “Are you scared that I won’t like it?” The silence stretched and Hawke realized he had hit it right on the nose. “Hey, it’ll just be a short visit. I’ll come down for a few days, you can introduce me to the chickens and your friends, and then I’ll be out of your hair. The real question is whether you’ll like me or not. Be warned, I snore.” 

A soft chuckle came down the line and Hawke grinned. _Victory._ He got to make Fenris laugh It was a small laugh, as if Fenris was almost scared to have anyone else hear it, but it was something. And this time, Hawke got to hear it. 

“You’ll be sleeping on the floor,” Fenris warned. “And I wake up very early. The farm won’t wait for anyone, not even you.” Hawke almost asked him what Fenris meant by that, if he was special somehow, but the words caught in his throat. He didn’t want to know the inevitable answer that Hawke was just a friend. A good friend, but nothing more. Hawke was fine with that, really. He hadn’t joined Farmer’s Only intending to fall in love, but shit happened. 

Shit like falling for an elf who had an amazing voice and a dry wit that could cut like knives and was absolutely beautiful -- 

“You will have to bring Trinket, if possible. You’ve spoken too much about your dog to hide him from me now,” Fenris said, completely unaware of the anguish Hawke was having. “I will warn you, if he attacks any of my chickens they will fight back. They have pecked foxes and Anders’ cat multiple times. I doubt they are scared of anything.” 

“Not a dog,” Hawke reminded him. “And it’s expensive to bring a mabari across borders, even if you’re going into Ferelden.” 

Fenris’ smile was audible. “But you will bring him anyway.” 

“Yeah, I will.” 

They talked a little longer and settled plans. Hawke even requested the time off that night -- he had enough vacation days saved up that he could stay for a whole week if he wanted, but Fenris said that he would already be falling behind on his work with Hawke there. That led to Hawke teasing Fenris, though he promised that he’d do work if Fenris showed him how. 

“You are a city rat, Hawke. If you really want to get your nails dirty…” It didn’t take Hawke any time at all to realize Fenris was messing with him. 

“Oh, only if you’ll clean them afterwards for me,” he replied. 

It was getting late, though, and both of them needed to be up early though for different reasons. Hawke promised to let Fenris know about the plane tickets so that he could plan the farm schedule in advance. When it came to actually saying good night, Hawke found his words caught in his throat again. Fenris lingered as well, not hanging up even though he had said his goodbyes, and let the silence stretch. He cleared his throat.

“Hawke?” He asked. 

“Yeah?” 

“I am… glad you are coming to visit. I look forward to seeing you.” Someone churned in Hawke’s stomach, not unlike the feeling he would get before throwing up. He really hoped he wasn’t about to throw up. 

“I’m looking forward to it too, Fen. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night,” Hawke said quickly, while he could still talk. He hung up with the words “I love you” bubbling in his chest. 

Miles and miles and an entire ocean away, Fenris cursed. He told himself that he would get off of his ass, that he’d tell Hawke sooner rather than later the truth -- that he was interested in something more, something akin to a relationship, even if Fenris didn’t know what that would be like. Hawke deserved to know about Fenris’ feelings and -- 

And he deserved to know that Fenris was trans beforehand. Fuck what Krem said, Fenris couldn’t get into a relationship without that disclosure. Maybe it was just him. But it added another reveal, another reason Hawke would have to turn Fenris down.

_As if everything else wasn’t enough._

\----

Hawke ended up getting four days off -- he’d be flying down Thursday morning and leave Sunday evening -- and he could not contain his excitement. He told everyone who asked about how much he was looking forward to going to Haven and he couldn’t stop himself from buying a brand new leash and collar for Trinket. He told himself that it was because he would need to keep a good handle on his mabari to stop him from running off into the fields or messing with chickens, but Hawke knew he really just wanted his furry best friend to look good.

Hawke also got a haircut and actually put effort into shaping his beard, which was about when Carver called him out and told him to “stop primping constantly, you still have two weeks until you leave!” 

Two weeks. That was all that stood between Hawke and seeing Fenris in person for the first time. He was checking his texts nearly constantly, to the point where Cullen told him off for it like he was back in school. Fenris didn’t text anymore than usual, but he was sending pictures of the farm and the house. 

_Cleaning for your stay,_ one read with an accompanying picture of a mop and broom.

_They have no idea what’s about to happen,_ came with a picture of about a dozen chickens eating in freshly melted snow. 

_Pack for the cold,_ Fenris told him. 

_Will a sweater work?_ Hawke asked. The Free Marches got cold, but not nearly as bad as Ferelden… but it was almost summer. How cold could it get? 

_I don’t have heating._

_Got it._ Hawke bought two more sweaters and stole one of Carver’s jackets. 

Most of the preparations on his end were easy. He wouldn’t be gone too long, after all, and he shared the apartment with his brother so it wasn’t like he needed a house sitter. Trinket needed a variety of shots and passes which involved a lot of paperwork, but besides a harrowing trip to the vet’s he was fine. 

Fenris, as far as Hawke knew, was also preparing but quite frankly he wasn’t telling Hawke many of the details. A little bit of Hawke was scared that Fenris was having second thoughts. After all, it was one thing to put up with Hawke over text message. It was a whole other beast to have him come and stay in one’s living room, chattering all the meanwhile. And Hawke was bringing Trinket -- that alone was a huge deal.

But Fenris didn’t say anything and Hawke didn’t want to force the issue, so he stayed quiet. 

Finally, the day of the trip came. Hawke had never been so prepared for anything in his life, getting to the airport a whole hour early because he couldn’t keep pacing the living room any longer. He reassured Trinket that it was going to be fine about twenty times before sending him off to go with the other animals who would be traveling. Thankfully, Hawke had gotten a direct flight so there wasn’t any need to transfer, and since he was only staying for a few days he didn’t need to check any bags.

_On the plane!!!!_ He texted Fenris with maybe too many exclamation points for someone his age, but he was excited dammit. 

_:)_ was the only reply he got. Still, Hawke kept opening the message and staring at it during the whole flight. 

“Going to see your girlfriend?” The old woman next to him teased when he looked at his phone for the hundredth time. Hawke jolted and started stammering, torn between explaining that he wasn’t dating anyone and that he was actually going to see someone he hoped would be his boyfriend.

Fortunately she took his blustering for someone just embarrassed to be so obvious, and she ended up giving him a cookie. The rest of the flight was peaceful enough, though Hawke couldn’t help but feel anxious about Trinket being all alone. When they landed, he rushed to baggage claim and security. 

Customs was a pain in the ass, but Hawke was able to get Trinket so it was at least tolerable. After declaring that no, he was not bringing in any fruits, vegetables, meats, or otherwise illicit products, he was waved through. Looking in the sea of faces, Hawke realized that he couldn’t see Fenris. _How tall is he anyway?_ They hadn’t really talked about things like that. Hawke didn’t even know what Fenris was wearing. 

But the silver hair was a pretty dead giveaway. Hawke found himself bursting into a huge smile as he saw Fenris seemingly emerge from the crowd. 

Hawke had seen pictures of Fenris before. They had shared plenty and there were a few on his Farmer’s Only profile. But seeing him in person, clean jeans and a ruffled dark green flannel, bangs pushed to one side as his green eyes scanned the airport, was a whole different story. Later, Hawke would claim that he lost his breath when he saw Fenris. The truth is that it was more like being punched in the gut, the air rushing out of him in a quick burst and leaving him gasping. 

Fenris looked at him and smiled, waving shyly as if they hadn’t been talking for almost every day for the last few months.

“Hello, Hawke,” Fenris said, that smile extending Hawke’s life expectancy by decades. Trinket barked and began sniffing at Fenris. “And hello, Trinket. I hope the flight was pleasant?” Hawke breathed in and nodded. His fingers twitched and, for a moment, he was tempted to pull Fenris into a hug. But they hadn’t talked about physical contact and Hawke remembered that Fenris had mentioned how much he disliked surprises -- it just spiked his anxiety rather than flattering him -- so he didn’t.

“It’s -- it’s really great to see you. In person. Like. Right here.” Hawke grinned and hoped that he didn’t just sound as stupid as he felt. Fenris chuckled and ducked his head. 

“I am glad to see you too, Hawke. Come, my truck is in the parking lot. There should be plenty of room for your things and Trinket, though he may have to sit in the back.” 

Hawke shrugged and motioned for Fenris to lead the way. There was a moment when neither of them moved, Fenris not even looking in his direction, when suddenly there were two arms wrapped around him. Hawke couldn’t breathe, his mind going blank except for how nice it felt to have Fenris holding him. 

Then, as soon as it happened, Fenris pulled away and began walking as if nothing had happened. There was a faint blush in the tips of his ears, which was the only way Hawke knew he hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. Somehow, his grin grew even bigger and he quickly caught up with Fenris. Trinket didn’t notice the mental screaming his human was doing, too intrigued by the new place. Hopefully Fenris didn’t notice either. It didn’t seem like he _could_ \-- he was too busy looking everywhere but at Hawke.

“So you know, most people let the other person hug them back,” Hawke said, hoping he sounded smoother than he felt. Fenris glanced at him and the blush grew more vibrant.

“Ah, my apologies. I should have asked before I did anything. I know how distressing surprises can be.” 

“No, no,” Hawke quickly corrected, not wanting Fenris to think things were starting off on a bad foot. It was quite the opposite, really. “I liked it. Next time, though, you should let me hug you back. I give great hugs.” 

“Oh.” A moment. Fenris didn’t look at him. “Okay.” He glanced at Hawke and gave him a small smile. “I will remember that for next time.” 

Hawke tripped over a suitcase. Fenris kept his chuckling to a minimum. Mostly. 

And when he grabbed Hawke’s hand to help him up, Hawke’s only thought was _I’m in love._

\----

“It is not much,” Fenris admitted as they pulled onto the farm. “We can put your things in the living room -- I am borrowing an inflatable mattress so you don’t need to sleep on the sofa -- and then I can take you around the farm?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Hawke replied. “And hey, this is way cooler than anything in Kirkwall. We just have a lot of homeless people and trash. Also drunks. And occasionally drunk homeless people waving around trash. It’s great.” 

Fenris chuckled and shook his head, parking the truck and getting out. Trinket was barking excitedly at the chickens, who all seemed to be in various states of alarm. Hawke quickly went to help, grabbing some of his luggage and Trinket’s leash. It really was a nice farm. The air was cleaner here and the sky was a vibrant shade of blue. This was like something out of a book to Hawke and the fact that Fenris was there with him… Well, that made it even better. 

He didn’t have the guts to say that though, so he followed Fenris into the house in silence. It was small and Hawke got the feeling that Fenris would get sick of him after a few days, but what really caught his attention was the kitchen. Not because it was particularly fancy or anything -- Hawke was pretty sure he had a bigger and better equipped one back home -- but because the counter space was almost entirely taken up with baked goods.

Just at a glance, Hawke spotted two dozen muffins, a few sheets of cookies, a small chocolate cake, and a thing of scones. He didn’t even want to know how long it had taken Fenris to bake all of that. 

Fenris caught him looking and blushed. 

“Oh, those… I was bored. And there is the market on Sunday. You can accompany me, if you wish… though we will need to leave early to bring you to the airport.” 

Hawke nodded. The drive from the airport hadn’t been too bad, the two of them able to fill most of the silence with chatter. He didn’t relish heading back though. 

“Here,” Fenris said, dropping one of the bags he was carrying. “You can sleep here. I apologize. You must be used to a nicer environment, but my house is… small.” It was not the first time he was apologizing and Hawke didn’t think it would be the last.

Still, he gave Fenris a warm smile and put his things down, though he was still holding Trinket’s leash. Then Hawke walked over to Fenris and gave him a hug. 

“I love it,” he said. _I love you,_ he thought. Fenris hesitated and, for a moment, Hawke thought he had overstepped. Then Fenris wrapped his arms around Hawke and squeezed and Hawke forgot how to speak. 

Trinket barked and starting pulling on his leash, tugging Hawke away with a nervous laugh. Fenris coughed and looked away.

“I… Let’s go on a walk. There is plenty for you to see.” He quickly exited, leaving Hawke to balance his bags precariously before following. 

The farm was better than he had imagined. It definitely seemed like a lot of work, but there was something… calming about the place. As if it existed outside of the usual hustle and bustle. It did, if Hawke wanted to be literal, but even more than that, this was an area at peace. A place where someone could just let go. 

The chickens were a menace -- one of them tried to peck at Trinket, who had gotten too close -- and Hawke had to take pictures of Fenris wading into brood of chickens to try to show Hawke his favorite. But Hawke also got Fenris to take a picture of him _holding_ a chicken which he knew would make his siblings jealous. Well, it would make Bethany jealous and Carver would roll his eyes and ask him if his shots were all updated, but still. 

After his experience with one chicken, Trinket stayed to the edges and just whined whenever they moved away from him.

“It’s okay, boy. We’ll find you a big stick to play catch with, how about that?” Hawke said. Trinket cheered and proceeded to try to pull Hawke in the direction of the orchard. “Woah, not yet, boy! We’re not done here,” Hawke chided. 

Fenris chuckled and finished feeding the chickens. “We may as well go there now. The fields you have already seen and there is not much else of note.” With that, he led them over. 

When they got there, it was as if something fell over Fenris. His shoulders relaxed and there was a… a glimmer in his eyes that weren’t there before. He didn’t ignore Hawke but he didn’t really face him either. As he began describing the experience and trial of having to plant the trees, he grew closer and closer to one in particular until his hand was resting against the bark. 

He looked completely happy, as if he wanted to just live there, and Hawke wished he could take a picture to remember the sight. 

Hawke wished that he could make Fenris feel like that. 

“Oh, sorry,” Fenris said, shaking his head. “You must be bored, listening to me talk about seasonal rainfall.”

“No,” Hawke lied. He hadn’t been paying attention to what Fenris was saying, too caught up in how he was saying it. “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Is that so.” It wasn’t a question. 

Fenris shifted, pulling away from the tree.

“Hawke, I… I have something to tell you.” He took a deep breath, not meeting Hawke’s eyes. Fenris seemed determined to keep his gaze on the ground. “I have not been entirely honest with you.” 

“I don’t --” 

“Please, let me finish. This is difficult as it is.” A moment. Two moments. “I was not born Fenris. I was born with a different name -- I was a girl. But I am not anymore. Do -- do you understand?” Fenris licked his lips. 

Hawke frowned. “You were born a girl? But you’re a man.” Somehow, Fenris seemed to shrink in on himself.

“Yes, I am. But I was not always.” Fenris swallowed and looked up at Hawke, those green eyes piercing into his chest and making his heart skip a beat. “The term is transgender. I was born one way and live another. If you have a problem, there is a hotel in the town --” 

“What? No,” Hawke interrupted. “Why would I have a problem with that? And why would I want to sleep in a hotel when you’ve prepared such an amazing air mattress?” He asked, only half teasing. 

Fenris looked away. “I have been told that my gender is unnatural and undesirable to others,” he said. 

Inside, Hawke felt his heart break a little. He wanted, more than ever, to take whoever had hurt Fenris and strangle them with his bare hands. “Danarius told you that, didn’t he?” Hawke asked. Fenris nodded. It was hardly worth a question, but Hawke had to make sure. “Well, he’s a dirty liar and a snake. He lied to you -- there’s nothing unnatural or undesirable about you.” Hawke swallowed. Was now a good time to confess that he had feelings? Was that why Fenris had wanted to talk? 

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to try to convey that Fenris made his heart skip a beat with every smile and that his laughter could make Hawke feel lighter than air. But the words wouldn’t come, so Hawke just stepped forward and pulled Fenris into a hug. 

“You’re amazing, Fen. Don’t let him control you now.” Hawke thought that Fenris was going to say something, but then Trinket let out a bark and began pulling madly on his leash. Only the strongest of people could stop a large mabari from getting his way, and while usually Hawke could he was too distracted and quickly found himself off-balance. 

Hawke swore as he was forced to let go of the leash and Trinket bounded off into the distance, thankfully back towards the house. 

“We should catch him,” Fenris said, extracting himself from Hawke’s embrace. He began to walk off but stopped, glancing back at Hawke with an unreadable expression. “You are a good man, Hawke. Better than most.” With that, he continued on and left Hawke, confused, to follow.

\----

Fenris mentally cursed himself and whatever had convinced him that it was a smart idea to tell Isabela about Hawke visiting. She was one of his closest friends but her tendency to get into his business was aggravating at best and close to infuriating at others. 

Right now, he was leaning towards the infuriated part, listening to her talk about Haven and its occupants and making Hawke laugh and scratching Trinket behind the ears -- 

Okay, no. Fenris was angry because he had come so close to confessing to Hawke his feelings, to asking whether they could become something more, only to drive up and have the damn dog -- _Mabari,_ a voice sounding suspiciously like Hawke’s corrected -- get distracted by a new person. It wasn’t her fault really, because there was no way she could have known, but Fenris was still irked. 

So he stood in his kitchen, packaging baked goods because he had to do something with them and he doubted that even Hawke could make more than a small dent in the amount he had accumulated. 

For rather understandable reasons, Fenris had been anxious and paranoid about Hawke’s visit, overthinking every detail to the point of madness. He had baked and cleared out his pantry almost entirely of supplies, so he’d have to get some more when he went into town next. Though, perhaps not literally, since Isabela was currently inviting them to go drinking with her and a few of the others.

“It’ll be fun! Fenris’ farm is nice and all, but you have to meet everyone else. We’re all so excited to see you,” she said. Fenris peaked into the living room and glared at her, hoping that she’d understand enough to shut up before Hawke realized just how much Fenris talked about him. “We don’t get many new people, and you seem oh-so very…. interesting.” She gave Hawke a look and Fenris felt a jolt of anger resurge when he realized she was flirting. 

_It’s just Isabela. She flirts with everyone, it’s her natural state of being,_ he told himself. He couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed, though. Hawke was bisexual -- it was on his Farmer’s Only profile -- and how in the world could Fenris hope to compete with Isabela? She was everything he wasn’t: confident, suave, devastatingly attractive, just to name a few. And she knew that Fenris had fallen head over heels for Hawke. So what was she doing? 

“That sounds like a plan, if Fenris is interested,” Hawke replied. Fenris moved into the living room, carefully sitting between his two friends and hoping he didn’t look as upset as he felt. “Do you want to introduce me to your friends tonight or are you going to keep me hidden here?” 

_If we don’t leave, then no one else can flirt with you,_ Fenris thought. He shoved that aside, It was an ugly thought, something that was tied to the poison Danarius left behind. Besides, he didn’t really want to keep Hawke hidden. If anything, it would be better to be able to point to Hawke and say _oh yes, that’s my friend. The one with the huge muscles and the charming smile and the wit that could cut through butter like a --_

“Fen? Are you with me?” Hawke asked, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. 

Fenris shook his head. “My apologies, I was thinking about the chickens,” he lied. 

“Oh, Fenris. This is why you and I would never work out. I can’t possibly have to compete with a dozen other ladies,” Isabela said with a smile. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s cute,” Hawke commented. Fenris blushed and he shifted, kicking at the floor. 

“If Hawke is feeling fine, we will meet you at the bar tonight,” he said. 

Isabela frowned and then nodded. “Oh, right, time zones. Whatever. Get enough drinks in you and you won’t remember what country you’re in, let alone whether you’re three or four hours behind.” 

“Four,” Hawke and Fenris said at the same time. They exchanged a look as Isabela broke into side-splitting laughter. 

“That’s just precious! Are you sure the two of you aren’t dating? You did meet online,” she teased. Fenris huffed as Hawke stammered, making it clear how little he actually wanted to date his friend. In another world, Fenris could appreciate what Isabela was trying to do but right now, he wasn’t in the mood.

“Isabela, Hawke needs to unpack and I still have to show him a few things. We will see you tonight,” he said as he stood. Isabela rolled her eyes and let Fenris walk her to her car. Once there was a door between them and Hawke, Fenris scowled and crossed his arms. “I do not need you meddling, no matter your intent.” 

“I’m just trying to test the waters,” Isabela said. “He likes you, Fenris. I can tell. He didn’t look at these ladies once.” She gestured to her chest. For her, she was dressed normally, which of course meant that her chest was barely held back and more leg was showing than was hidden. “And you’re sure he’s not gay?” 

“Positive.” Fenris’ glower didn’t subside. “I know what you are doing, but there is no need. Hawke is not interested in --”

“Bullshit,” Isabela interrupted. “He is.” She sighed. “This is pointless. I’ve never been able to change your mind, you’re the most stubborn person I know and I’m friends with Dorian. Take him out to drinks tonight, all right?” Before Fenris could reply, Isabela gave him a kiss on the cheek and got in her car, driving off to the sound of pop music blaring from her stereo. 

Fenris sighed and went back inside. 

Hawke was unpacking while Trinket sniffed around the house, doing his best to get his nose in everything. As soon as he saw Fenris, Hawke grinned and Fenris told himself that the weird things his heart was doing was nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.

“So are we going drinking tonight?” Hawke asked. “Isabela seemed like she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but if you don’t want to go…”

“What? No, I would like you to meet my friends. They are eager to meet you as well,” Fenris replied quickly, walking over and sitting next on the couch. “I promise that the rest are not as… much as Isabela is.” 

“She’s fine,” Hawke said with a grin. “One of my friends, Zevran, propositioned me when we first met and he’s dating someone.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, I bet the two would get along like a wildfire.” 

“I doubt the world is prepared for them to meet,” Fenris drawled. Hawke’s grin grew and Fenris had to look away. 

“How should I dress?” Hawke asked, changing the subject to something a little safer. Fenris shrugged. “Okay, so I shouldn’t wear my flannel and farmer jeans?” Hawke teased. 

“Farmer jeans?” 

“You know, the ones that are old and rugged and make my ass look good,” Hawke replied without a hint of shame. Fenris chuckled and shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

“Wear whatever you wish, but know that Isabela will be there,” was all the advice he had to offer. Personally, Fenris thought that all of Hawke’s jeans made him look good. Very good. Not like Fenris had been looking or anything.

Maybe he took a quick peek, but just a small one. 

“I would like to continue showing you the farm, if that is all right?” Fenris was not prepared for the expression on Hawke’s face. It was so earnest and open that Fenris would have taken a step back, if he were standing. As it was, Fenris could only look away and hope his ears weren’t burning as much as they felt like they were. 

“Fenris, I want to do anything you want this weekend. I’m just happy to see you and be in the same room.” 

The words stuck to Fenris’ throat. They were trying to claw their way out but he just couldn’t say them. So instead he nodded and gave Hawke a bit of a pathetic smile. 

“I enjoy your company, too.” It was true, but not nearly enough. 

\----

Fenris had interesting friends, Hawke decided five seconds after meeting them. The Iron Bull looked like he had been in some serious fights and played rugby, but he was also the town doctor. Dorian Pavus seemed like a bit of a prick, and he and Fenris had gotten into an argument about books that involved threats that Hawke hadn’t even used on Carver. Isabela was still a huge flirt and Hawke was ninety percent sure that every other word Varric said was a lie, but it was still brilliant. 

“So you finally came,” Krem said as he nursed a bottle of what passed as beer here. Fenris had warned Hawke that all the drinks were absolutely horrible and insisted that he try as many as he could stomach. They had agreed that Fenris would be the designated driver, mostly because it was his car and he was used to the roads. 

It meant that Hawke could get as drunk as he wanted, but he was going to try to keep it under control. Mostly because he didn’t want to say anything stupid and ruin what was shaping up to be a good weekend with Fenris. Already, Hawke had almost admitted his feelings half a dozen times and it wasn’t even the end of day one. 

“Of course I did,” Hawke replied slowly. He couldn’t tell if Krem was glad to see him or not. Everyone else had expressed various levels of joy and teased Fenris, though Hawke had pretended not to notice when Dorian had handed Varric a ten dollar bill. “Was there any doubt?” 

“Dorian had bets on you not coming until the wedding.” Krem shrugged and then glanced at Fenris, who was still arguing with Dorian, though now their argument seemed to be about politics. There was less heat, now that Hawke was paying attention. It was more like they were arguing for the sake of arguing. No one else seem concerned, which was enough for Hawke. 

“It’s hard to believe Fenris is baking his wedding cake,” Hawke admitted. 

“You caught the two on a bad night. They either argue like old men or complain about Tevinter together.” Krem sipped at his beer. “You should see when Anders comes. I don’t know why he isn’t here tonight.” 

“Unfortunately our favorite dairy farmer had to stay behind,” Isabela chimed in. “He said that one of his cows is giving birth.” Hawke couldn’t help it -- he made a face. Isabela laughed at him, but it seemed like it was out of good fun. “Bet you’re glad that Fenris only has those chickens.” 

“Trinket isn’t very happy,” Hawke replied. That, of course, brought up questions of who Trinket was and Hawke, all too happy to talk about his mabari, pulled his phone out to show everyone photos. 

This went on for a while, though Hawke’s attention was completely derailed when Fenris and Bull cleared off a table and -- 

“Are they arm wrestling?” Hawke asked, voice going a little high at the end of the sentence. Krem let out a sigh and Isabela laughed. Varric had a small notebook out and more than a few patrons of the bar were coming up to him to make bets. 

“They do this at least once a week,” Isabela explained. 

“It’s a show of endurance and strength,” Dorian said. 

“It’s them showing off and amusing the rest of us. Want to place a bet?” Krem asked. Hawke blinked and shook his head as Bull openly flexed, his button up’s sleeves pushed past his elbows. Fenris took off his jacket, his white tattoos swirling up and down his arms. He was certainly strong -- he had to be, in order to work on a farm all day -- but Hawke found it hard to believe that he could beat Bull. 

“Who usually wins?” Hawke asked as Varric came by. 

Varric winked. “If I told you, I’d be ruining the fun.” 

Hawke rolled his eyes and leaned back. “Ten on Fenris.” 

“Fifteen on Bull,” Dorian countered. 

“Twenty on Fenris,” Hawke said before he thought about it too hard. Varric wrote it down in his notebook. 

“Anyone else?” He called out. Hawke realized that half the bar was watching. _Small town, everyone probably knows each other,_ he thought. It was weird but not bad, just… unusual. “All right, gentlemen. You know the rules. No distracting each other, no taunting one another, just a good clean match.” 

“I won’t go easy on you just because Hawke’s here,” Iron Bull said. Fenris flushed a little as he sat. 

“I am baking your wedding cake,” Fenris replied. That got a laugh out of the crowd even as Bull slammed his elbow on the table. Fenris placed his down carefully and Hawke felt his heart beat faster and faster.

_This is ridiculous,_ Hawke thought. _There’s no way Fenris can win!_ Fenris’ entire head could fit in one of Bull’s biceps. And yet… 

Everyone watched with baited breath as the two of them grabbed each other’s hands and waited for Varric to give them to go-ahead. There was a tense moment of silence and then --

“Go!” 

Immediately the two of them began to struggle. Amazingly, Bull didn’t win instantly. Fenris grit his teeth, eyes narrowing at his competitor. And, of course, the crowd began to heckle. Apparently Varric’s rules didn’t apply to anyone who wasn’t physically involved. 

“Kick his ass,” someone shouted.

“Come on, Chief!” 

“If you break the table it’s on you, fuckers!” Krem said as he knocked back the last of his beer. 

“This is the best part of the night,” Isabela said as she eyed the two appreciatively. Hawke nodded, unable to take his eyes off of the sight of Fenris actually holding his own against Iron Bull. “So I have a question.”

“Sure,” Hawke replied, not really paying attention.

“Do you love Fenris?” 

If Hawke were drinking anything, he would have spit it out. As it was, he fell into a coughing fit as Isabela gave him a pitying look. Really, though, that answered the question for her and she hummed before nudging him in the side.

“I bet if you took your shirt off and motivated Fenris, he’d win,” she suggested.

_“What?”_ Hawke turned to stare at Isabela, who seemed way too sober to have considered that a real option. She eyed him and winked. 

“Fenris is lucky. If he wasn’t so heads-over-heels for you, I’d see if he wanted to share, but I can’t see him liking that.” She looked back at Fenris and Bull. The two of them were sweating and wavering, but somehow it didn’t look like either of them were any closer to winning. “Fenris, if you win Hawke’s gonna give you a blow job!” 

There was a shout, a burst of laughter across the crowd, and then the Iron Bull’s fist was flattened against the table. Fenris stared at Isabela and Hawke, his eyes wide with surprise and a little bit of horror. Hawke swallowed down a rush of disappointment -- of course Fenris didn’t want him like that, dammit, it was stupid to think otherwise just because they had a few moments together -- and laughed it off. 

Isabela was cheering, saying something about winning forty dollars and how Fenris owed her. 

“I -- Sorry about her, we didn’t -- I didn’t --” Hawke didn’t know what he could say. Fenris just huffed and stood, nodding to Bull as he made his way over to Isabela. “Sorry,” Hawke stammered. 

“It is nothing.” Fenris eyed him before focusing his look at Isabela. “We should talk.” 

She rolled her eyes and protested the entire time, but let Fenris lead her outside. Hawke hoped that he didn’t look as crushed as he felt. When he felt a large, Qunari hand on his shoulder, he got the impression that he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. 

Looking at Bull, Hawke was more than a little intimidated on principle. Hawke wasn’t a small guy, but… Well. It was Bull.

“Have a drink with me before Varric drags you into one of his stories?” It was a question but Hawke got the idea that he wanted to to say yes. So he just nodded and found himself sitting at a table with Krem and Bull. Dorian, after some huffing, had been sent away. That confirmed Hawke’s suspicion that this was going to be about Fenris. “What are your feelings for him?” 

“Who?” Hawke found himself on the receiving end of two unimpressed looks. “I -- why are you asking?” He tried to redirect the conversation instead. 

“Fenris has few friends. We’re making sure that you aren’t going to hurt him,” Krem replied, tone blunt. 

_Well then,_ Hawke thought. He got the feeling that Krem and Bull didn’t beat around the bush when they didn’t have to do so. Probably a good thing, but it was a little much being scrutinized by both of them. 

“He came here, five years ago, with nothing except for the clothes on his back and a beat-up truck,” the Iron Bull continued before Hawke could say anything. “Varric gave him the farm and we all kept an eye on him, not sure what to make of the quiet elf who moved in down the street. He didn’t trust any of us, but you know what? With time and patience, we befriended him. We showed him that not everyone was out to get him. He opened up to some of us.” Bull and Krem exchanged a look. 

“I know he’s trans and I don’t care,” Hawke said, taking a gamble. Krem seemed to relax just a hair as Bull nodded.

“Good.” A moment passed and Bull nodded to himself. “You want to date him, don’t you?” 

Hawke felt like trying to lie was pointless. It was a bit unnerving to be on the receiving end of Bull’s gaze, somehow especially with the eye. Krem was also giving him a look, but it was less… less wary and more guarded. Hawke kept glancing at the door, hoping that Fenris would come back from where he was talking with Isabela. 

“He likes you a lot, you know,” Krem said. Hawke blinked. Then he shook his head. 

“No, he -- he only thinks of me as his friend.” 

Krem raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I’ve never seem him talk about someone as much as he’s talked about you.” He leaned back, rolling his shoulders. “Fenris is a good man, Hawke. He’s been hurt in the past by assholes and no one was there for him. Everyone in this bar? We’d fight for him. He might not realize that, but he’s part of our community. Got it?” Krem’s expression was completely serious. Hawke just swallowed and nodded. 

“Yeah.”

At that, Krem leaned back a little, as if surprised that Hawke agreed so readily. “Good.” The door to the bar opened and Isabela pranced in, followed by a sullen looking Fenris. “Now go talk to him. Preferably sooner rather than later. I’m sick of watching you two pine.” 

\----

Several minutes ago, Isabela and Fenris walked out of the bar to talk to one another in the crisp summer air. Fenris watched, annoyed, as Isabela pat her pockets, looking for a light for her cigarette. He didn’t smoke. It wasn’t allowed with Danarius and it wasn’t something he wanted to pick up now. 

“Dammit, I’ll ask Varric for one later,” Isabela swore, giving up soon enough. “So,” she said, leaning against the wall, “I want to talk about your man.”

“He is no one’s man,” Fenris automatically replied. “Especially not mine.”

“Right, right.” Isabela waved a hand. “Definitely not. No way anyone could have gotten confused with the looks you two kept giving each other.” Fenris adopted a confused look, genuinely not sure what she was talking about. Isabela laughed but quickly stopped once she realized Fenris was being serious. “Fenris, he looks at you like you hung the moon. Like you could decide the fate of the world with your smile.” She shook her head. “All romantic nonsense, of course, but still. It’s cute.”

“Cute.” Fenris narrowed his eyes, trying to tell if Isabela was mocking him.

“Oh come off it, you don’t think I’m pulling your leg, do you?” She looked him over. “You do. You really don’t -- wow. You can’t tell that he’s in love with you? Even now?” 

“Hawke is drunk. However he acts now is a poor indicator of his feelings,” Fenris replied. 

There was a moment of silence and Fenris wondered if that was that. This painful and pointless conversation would come to an end and he’d be free to continue pinning over Hawke in silence. But then Isabela sighed and shook her head. Outside, she seemed much less drunk than she had inside. She always did know how to put on an act. But she was also one of Fenris’ only friends and he knew that, as strange and ridiculous and embarrassing as her methods were, she only wanted the best for him. It was touching, really. That didn’t mean he was going to encourage her meddling, though. 

“Are you scared, Fenris?” She asked. He was caught off-guard and stared at her. “It’s ok if you are. I know you don’t like talking about your past, but… Well, it must have been pretty awful.” The _for you to end up here_ mixed with the _for you to have so many issues_ and Fenris was glad she didn’t say it aloud. “You know that we are here to support you. If Hawke does anything to you -- and I mean anything -- he’ll have his ass kicked five ways to Sunday.” 

“That assumes he will ever want to see me again after this visit,” Fenris mumbled, sulking a little. He was a farmer who talked to chickens and didn’t sleep well and stress baked and had nothing to offer a man like Hawke. It was foolish to think that there could ever be anything between them.

And yet. 

Fenris swallowed down the sliver of hope that had begun to blossom in his chest. 

“If I promise to talk to him about our feelings, will you drop this?” He asked. Isabela swore to it and crossed her heart. “Good.” He blinked as Isabela stepped forward and hugged him quickly, not even trying to cop a feel like usual.

“I know you won’t regret this, Fenris. Oh, you better give me all the details! He looks like the kind of man who has big…. _muscles_ if you know what I mean.” She giggled even as Fenris rolled his eyes. He followed her, though, as she walked into the bar and went to go get another drink.

He looked at Hawke, who was sitting at a table with Bull and Krem. _For fuck’s sake,_ Fenris couldn’t help but think, glowering a little at the two. Bull just shrugged and Krem raised his third -- or was it his fourth? Maker knew -- bottle.

“Come join us,” he called out. “Your man needs another drink.” 

Fenris held back several choice comments about Krem’s word usage, instead choosing to fall back on a more universal hand gesture for _fuck off._ He still went to the bar and ordered two drinks. Just because he was driving that night didn’t mean he had to completely abstain -- besides, his alcohol tolerance was pretty damn good. 

When he sat down, he handed the drink to Hawke. Their fingertips touched for a moment and Fenris wondered if he imagined the flash in Hawke’s eyes or the sudden darkening blush on his face. It was hard to tell -- was Hawke merely drunk or was this something more? Fenris shook the thoughts aside, convinced that it was simply Isabela’s meddling that had gotten to him.

“I feel that I should be concerned, the three of you talking,” Fenris said, eyeing his friends suspiciously. Notably, Hawke was the only one who wasn’t laughing. He managed a weak chuckle, but Fenris knew what Hawke’s real laughter sounded like and that wasn’t it. 

“We weren’t talking about you,” Krem was quick to say. “We were asking about the -- the chickens!” His stumble would have been easier to miss if he hadn’t sounded so excited about a bunch of farm animals that he, in the past, had decried as feathered devils.

One of them had taken a dump when he picked her up and Krem had never forgiven Easy for it. 

“Hawke met them earlier.” Fenris decided to go with it. He could always ask Hawke about it later. His words prompted Hawke to talk about how he liked teasing Fenris about the chickens, as well as mention the stuffed animal he had gotten. Then he had to defend his choice to the Iron Bull, up until Krem pointed out that Bull had half a dozen pink nugs scattered across his house.

As the conversation wound on, Fenris was a little surprised with how easy Hawke fit into the group dynamic. Dorian and Isabela joined them, followed later by Varric, who handed Hawke some money and congratulated him. 

“Also, the current record is 14-10,” he said with his trademark grin.

“You bet money on me?” Fenris asked, raising an eyebrow at Hawke. 

He squirmed a bit, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yes, well, I thought that it would be supportive. You know, friends supporting friends. Ha, ha. So, uh, does anyone here know how to play Wicked Grace?” Luckily for Hawke, the entire table not only knew how to play, but were avid players. 

By the end of it, Hawke had actually won some more money, though the real competition was between Varric, Isabela, and the Iron Bull. Krem and Dorian were both pretty bad at cheating and keeping their expressions blank. Fenris had a good poker face but he couldn’t cheat to save his life. Hawke was halfway decent at both, but nowhere near the level he needed to be to compete with the true masters.

“We should go home,” Fenris said as soon as Isabela started suggesting they bet things other than money. “The farm waits for no one,” he added, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him how nice it would be to really be going _home_ with Hawke. 

He could imagine it. The two of them, sharing a bed and cuddling for warmth in the winter and throwing the sheets off in the summer. Hawke would sleep in, no doubt, waking up just in time to eat breakfast and drink coffee. They’d work in the fields together, Trinket causing more problems than not. The chickens would be a nice break in weeding and watering and in the evening they could wander the orchard. Hopefully by then the trees would be in full bloom and Hawke could just reach up and grab an apple, polishing it off on his shirt before handing it to Fenris… 

“Good night,” Fenris said to everyone, hoping his brief loss in concentration had been missed.

“Good night you two! Definitely bring him back before he goes,” Isabela said. “It’s not every day we get someone new.” 

Varric and Hawke had traded phone numbers, to no one’s surprise and Fenris’ slight horror. He didn’t even want to know what chaos the two of them could cause together. More surprising was the fact that Hawke and Krem exchanged phone numbers as well. 

“Gotta make sure you’re treating my friend right,” Krem told Hawke in a way that made it sound far too much like Fenris and Hawke were dating.

Fenris cleared his throat nervously as Hawke gave everyone a clumsy two-fingered salute. He was quite drunk, though thankfully he could still walk, and it took a good five minutes to get him into the truck since he kept wanting to stop and talk. 

Maybe Fenris would have been more inclined to let him, except Hawke seemed to be too caught up telling him about the time that Bethany and Carver went to a dairy farm with their first grade class. It was funny, but Fenris had also heard the story before. Hawke did like to talk about his family, after all.

“And -- and then, Bethany asked the teacher what happened to the cows that got used to make hamburgers!” Hawke burst out laughing, almost falling to the ground and forcing Fenris to wrap an arm around him to try to keep him upright. 

Considering that Fenris regularly won arm wrestling matches with the local Qunari, it should not have been so hard to keep Hawke in a relatively vertical position. Fortunately they were able to get back to the farm in one piece, though Hawke’s random moments of laughter did startle Fenris the first few times they happened.

Afterwards, though, Fenris found himself smiling. He did like Hawke’s laugh, after all.

“F-Fen,” Hawke said as they stumbled inside, Fenris groping along the wall to turn the lights on. “I have to tell you something and it’s very important.” 

“You need to sleep,” Fenris murmured, placing Hawke as gently as he could on the inflatable matress, thanking the Maker they had set it up before leaving. Trinket raised his head but settled back down as soon as he saw it was just his human and his human’s friend. It probably should be a bit more confusing that Trinket was so comfortable around Fenris already, but Hawke was always talking about how smart mabari were. 

Hawke didn’t seem like he was currently at the intelligence level of a mabari -- he kept trying to grab at Fenris’ shirt, but his hands were too sweaty and he couldn’t get a good grip. As Fenris started to walk away, Hawke let out a low whine. Fenris glanced back at him and raised an eyebrow. 

“I -- I gotta tell you something,” Hawke insisted. 

“What do you need to say?” Fenris asked, crossing his arms. A swirl of trepidation rose up and he swallowed it back down. _It’s nothing. He’s drunk. Anything he says is --_

“Varric,” Hawke announced with all the certainty of a white man who had never been rejected. He probably never had been. Fenris couldn’t imagine someone who _didn’t_ want to date Hawke. “Varric is a liar,” Hawke finished. He waved his hand in the air and almost slapped Trinket in the nose. 

The mabari gave him a dirty look and moved away a bit to fall asleep on a different piece of carpet. Fenris rolled his eyes, unsure if the feeling in his chest was disappointment or relief. He made sure that Hawke had emptied his pockets and that his shoes were off before pulling a blanket over him. 

“Good night, Hawke,” Fenris said. 

“Fenris, come back,” Hawke moaned. He reached up and made grabby hands at Fenris, who chuckled. “Where are you going?” Hawke pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and looking far more adorable than a fully grown man should be able to manage. “Why aren’t you staying?” 

“You are drunk,” Fenris pointed out, “And I work in the morning. Good night, Hawke.” He turned and left the room, closing the door right as Hawke said, 

“But I love you! Don’t go!” 

Fenris froze. He opened his door again and looked out at Hawke. There was a heartbroken expression on his face, too earnest to do anything but tug on Fenris’ own heartstrings. He sighed and walked back over, telling himself this was a horrible idea. As soon as he got within an arm’s length, Hawke reached out and made to grab Fenris into a hug. He stopped as Fenris flinched. 

“I wanna hug you and cuddle and kiss you good night!” Hawke’s eyes were wide as saucers. There was no lie and, for someone who was drunk, they were startlingly clear. Fenris went through how many drinks Hawke had that night -- it hadn’t seemed like that many, but who knew what Bull got him to try. 

Still, Fenris couldn’t deny that part of him wanted this. He wanted to believe that Hawke really felt this way. The pragmatic part, however, won out as per usual and reminded him that anything someone said while drunk couldn’t be trusted. 

“You are drunk. We will talk in the morning.” Fenris swallowed and told himself that he wouldn’t regret this. He knelt down and hugged Hawke, kissing him on the forehead. “Good _night._ ” The look Hawke gave him made it difficult to walk away, but Fenris did. He shut the door behind him, he changed clothes, and he got into bed. 

He resolutely did not think about the fact that he could be cuddling with Hawke right then and there. Not at all. Not for a single second. Definitely not for the whole night. 

And if he wrapped the blankets a little tighter and ached for another person a little more than usual, well, that was neither here nor there. 

\----

Hawke woke up with a pounding headache, a never-ending thirst, and a mabari licking his face. He groaned and flailed a little, pushing Trinket to a more acceptable distance. His first thought was that he was going to kill Carver for leaving him on the floor. His second thought was that this was a really weirdly lumpy floor.

“Aw, fuck.” Hawke forced himself to sit up, his head swimming as he tried to focus on where he was. Bits of the night came back to him but much of it was little more than flashes of color and sound. He barely remembered getting in Fenris’ truck and driving back and he didn’t remember anything after they walked inside. 

_Maybe that’s a good thing,_ he thought as he looked around to see if Fenris was there. _Where’s my phone?_ Hawke pulled it out of his pocket and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it still had a little bit of battery. There was a text from his sister telling him to have fun and a text from his brother telling him not to do anything stupid. Hawke rolled his eyes and decided to reply to both of them later.

A third text was from a number he didn’t recognize, and the name was ‘vAeeoxc’ which really didn’t help at all. Thankfully the text read _This is Varric!_ and Hawke was able to correct his drunken spelling without any incident. 

The fourth text was from Fenris. Hawke felt a spike of anxiety when he saw it and he forced himself to open it immediately. That anxiety was replaced with a wave of disappointment when he saw that it told him to just stay in the house and feed himself -- 

_I will return after finishing chores._ No hint as to what happened last night and nothing suggesting that Hawke had done anything other than embarrass himself horribly. _Maker, I hope he doesn’t hate me,_ Hawke thought. 

Trinket whined and nuzzled up against him, sensing his owner’s drop in mood. Hawke managed a smile and scratched his mabari behind the ears. 

“At least you like me, right boy?” 

“Woof!” 

“Let’s go see where Fenris is.” Hawke stood up and immediately regret all of his decisions leading up to that point. “On second thought, let’s go drink water and see what food there is, then we can find the cute elf.” 

“Woof!” 

“I knew you’d understand.” 

It wasn’t hard to find food; the kitchen was right there and Fenris seemed to have stocked up in anticipation for Hawke’s appetite. Five slices of toast and half a carton of orange juice later and Hawke actually felt like a real person. He also was more awake and his hangover was, in the grand scheme of hangovers experienced, not too bad. Trinket was begging for scraps but since it wasn’t his house, Hawke didn’t give him any.

Ok, he gave Trinket a few. Not too many. Just a few.

When Trinket was fed and Hawke felt like he wasn’t about to die if he saw sunlight, he put Trinket’s leash on and brought the two of them outside. The fact that there was any natural light was still pretty rough, but he didn’t think he was going to throw up or run into any walls so he considered that a success at avoiding a serious hangover. 

Hawke found Fenris in the orchard. 

Fenris didn’t notice Hawke at first. He was taking pictures of the branches, the small buds that had appeared overnight and would become beautiful blossoms as long as they were treated right. He was at peace, the small furrow in his brows not from anger but rather from concentration. This was something that was important to him. This was something he had built from the ground up, away from everything that had happened to him at the hands of others. 

There was so much history behind everything Fenris did that Hawke knew he would never know all of it. He could never hope to guess why Fenris had chosen apples in the first place or why all his chickens had such odd names. There were layers upon layers and Hawke itched to find out more.

But Fenris wasn’t just some fascinating lab experiment. He was a person with wants and desires and needs that Hawke wanted to meet. No, not meet. Exceed. 

In that moment, the sunlight filtering through tree branches and catching in Fenris’ hair, illuminating his tattoos and brightening his eyes, Hawke fell in love all over again with Fenris. It was ridiculous, seeing as they were not even together, but that was the only way Hawke could hope to describe how he felt. 

Trinket _woofed_ and wagged his tail, pulling on his leash to get closed to Fenris. Hawke blushed and walked over, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that rose up when Fenris frowned at him. 

“You are awake,” Fenris said. 

“Uh, yeah. I fed myself and stuff.” Hawke scratched the back of his head, cursing his lack of eloquence. 

“I told you to wait.” 

“Trinket wanted to go on a walk. He’s full of energy. Isn’t that right, boy?” Hawke said, smiling down at his mabari. Again, Trinket barked and nosed up towards Fenris. 

He smiled and pat Trinket on the nose, phone safely put away. After a moment, Fenris coughed and glanced back at Hawke. “My apologies. I noticed the buds while I was working. They have never bloomed before.” He looked up at the trees, the smile returning. “They are beautiful.” 

“I love you,” Hawke blurted out. Fenris’ head whipped around as he stared at Hawke, eyes wide. Hawke had never wanted the ground to open up and consume him more than he did in that moment. “Fuck, I -- I didn’t mean that.”

“You do not love me.” 

“No! I do! I really do! I just -- fuck, I was going to ask you out and then hopefully start dating you and after a while then I would --” Hawke was cut off by Fenris grabbing him by the shirt, yanking him forward with surprising strength, and kissing him.

It was a horrible kiss. Their lips didn’t meet at first and the angle was awkward and both of them were trying to avoid stepping on Trinket, who wanted to get in on the action. Fenris had to stand on his toes because Hawke was too tall and Hawke’s damn nose -- _thanks, Dad_ \-- kept getting in the way. 

It was a wonderful kiss. Fenris had chapped lips and but his face was smooth and his hands were curled up in Hawke’s shirt like if he let go he’d drown. It was hard and passionate and yet gentle, caring. As if all the emotions Hawke felt for Fenris were poured into a single little action.

The two of them pulled apart after seconds but it felt like days. Hawke was panting a little and he was sure he looked like he had just been hit by lighting. Fenris’ ears were bright red and he couldn’t look Hawke in the eyes.

“My -- I’m sorry,” he said, moving to leave. 

“What? No, don’t go.” Hawke reached out and grabbed Fenris by the shoulder. Fenris stopped and swallowed, shaking his head. 

“This is a foolish idea. You are going to return to Kirkwall and who knows when we will see each other again?” 

“I’ll come back. I’ll visit or -- or you can visit me. I don’t know. We’ll make it work.” Hawke felt like his heart had been wrenched from his chest and then put back in place with duct tape and prayers. Fenris still wasn’t looking at him but he wasn’t leaving either. “We talk every day. As long as we get to see each other sometimes, that’s good enough for me.”

“And what happens when you are no longer content?” Fenris asked softly. Hawke frowned and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around the smaller elf. Fenris came without protest, melting into the embrace and squeezing back just as tight. “You are my best friend, Hawke. I do not want to lose that.” 

“You don’t know what will happen for certain, but I know that if I don’t try everything I can I’m going to regret it forever,” Hawke replied. “I love you, Fenris. I love hearing you laugh and I love seeing you smile. I love hearing about your day, even if it’s just you complaining about Anders or the weather. And I want you to be happy.” 

“You think I need you to be happy?” Fenris questioned, pulling away a little so he could raise an eyebrow at Hawke.

“No, no,” he quickly said. “But I think I can help you be happy? I don’t know. You wouldn’t have kept talking to me if you hated me.”

“True.” Fenris swallowed again and bit his lip. “I am concerned because you -- you would not be happy here. It is too small. There is no air conditioning and there are no Starbucks. But I will not leave the farm.”

Hawke shrugged and looked down at Trinket, who was sniffing at the ground eagerly. Sensing that someone was looking at him, Trinket perked up. His tongue lolled out and he began panting, tail thumping on the ground. 

“I dunno, Trinket likes it here and he’s the boss of me.” 

Fenris chuckled and shook his head. “You are an impossible man, Hawke.” He stood up on his toes and kissed Hawke again, this time much smoother. They were already growing more familiar with one another and Hawke did everything he could to savor the sensation. If these were going to be his only two kisses with Fenris, damn right he was going to remember them.

But when Fenris stopped kissing him he didn’t move, just rest his head against Hawke’s chest and hummed a nameless tune. Hawke was more than content to just hold Fenris, breathe in the smell of the fresh air, and enjoy the fact that he had a beautiful and wonderful man right next to him. 

Also it was still sort of bright out and Hawke was happy to sit in the shade of the grove, if just to help keep his head from splitting open. 

“Uh, Fenris?” Hawke asked after a minute or two had passed.

“Yes, Hawke?”

“Is that a yes to dating then?” In response to that, Fenris kissed him again. 

Hawke decided he liked that answer. 

\----

At the wedding, the cake was wonderful and Fenris received a number of compliments on how it had come out. Not only did it taste delicious -- an almond vanilla blend with the sponge-like qualities of an angel cake but the same sweetness of bundt cake -- but the frosting was amazing. Dorian had cried seeing it, though he had also cried when he met Bull at the altar and when he was saying his vows and for the majority of the reception, so that probably wasn’t quite as special as it might otherwise have been.

Bull had four and a half slices -- the half coming from the slice Krem attempted to shove in his face -- but most of the guests held themselves back. Except for Hawke, who had three slices, which was the maximum his boyfriend let him have. 

“I can make you more later,” Fenris told him.

“Yeah, but this one is _pretty,_ ” Hawke whined. Fenris rolled his eyes and promised to make Hawke a pretty cake for his birthday. “Really?” 

“Yes, really. Now come on, I want you to meet the asshole who’s cat keeps threatening my chickens.” 

Anders really was a nice guy, the kind of person Hawke wouldn’t mind grabbing a few drinks with, except for the fact that he was unapologetic about his cat. Seeing as Hawke was dating Fenris, he couldn’t really let that slide. 

Varric, as the mayor of the town and the self-proclaimed chronicler of all of Haven’s events, was there and he gave a rather heartwarming speech. Krem’s was mostly subtle digs at Bull, not-so subtle digs at Dorian, and ended with him saying that the two assholes deserved each other. 

To no one’s surprise, Dorian was crying by the end of it. 

No one commented on the tears that pooled in Bull’s eye, though mostly because no one was quite tall enough to see that high up without stretching their neck. 

“So, elf, who do you think will have the next one?” Varric asked Fenris. Hawke was off getting drinks for them, but he was currently talking to Isabela. His back was to Fenris so it was hard to tell how the conversation was going, but since Isabela kept looking at Fenris there really wasn’t much of a question about what they were talking about.

Or who, in this case. 

Fenris shrugged. “I do not know the intimate details of every citizen of Haven,” he replied. Varric chuckled and took a swig out of his glass. That was definitely not champagne and Fenris hadn’t seen Varric go near the bar once, but it probably wouldn’t kill him so it was fine. 

“I was more curious how things were going with you and Chuckles.” Varric held his hands up as Fenris turned to glare daggers at him. “Not implying anything, really. I just want to know. He’s making you happy, treating you right?” 

Hawke had finally succeeded in freeing himself from conversation with Isabela and was at the bar. He turned back towards the table as he waited. Catching Fenris’ eyes, he grinned and gave a little wave. Fenris blushed and scowled, looking away before glancing back and smiling, nodding at his boyfriend. 

“Huh.” Varric scratched at his chin, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“What?” Fenris asked, scowling at him. Varric shook his head.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about what a good story this’ll make.” 

“Story? For what? If you put us in one of your damned records, I swear I will --” 

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Varric interrupted. He stood and grabbed his drink, finishing it over and a satisfied exhale. “Now, if you don’t mind me, I have a certain grocer to catch. She and I need to have a chat about the romance serials she’s selling.”

“Cassandra was talking to Dorian, last I saw her,” Fenris said. Varric nodded and walked off, leaving Fenris to watch Hawke. 

He had gotten the drinks and was walking back, a huge grin on his face. It didn’t go away even as he sat down and kissed Fenris before handing him the wine glass. It was a good red -- say what one wanted about Dorian, but the man had fantastic taste. Fenris wasn’t nearly spiteful enough to deny that. 

“Why are you smiling?” Fenris asked.

Hawke shrugged. “Why not?” 

Fenris sipped at his wine and thought about how he was going to go back to his farm that night with a loving boyfriend. They would cuddle and kiss until they fell asleep and in the morning he’d have to convince Hawke not to just eat apple muffins for breakfast, but to actually put effort into booking. Hawke would help him a little on the farm but at lunch they’d go and sit in the orchard and have a picnic. Trinket would be there, running around and chasing his own tail and generally making a bother of himself.

The apple trees weren’t blooming anymore, but they would in the spring.

And Hawke, Fenris knew, would be there to see them.

Fenris thought about all of those things and he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, a group of chickens is indeed known as a brood. And the image of Fenris surrounded by chickens while he complains about Hawke is too perfect to give up.
> 
> Also I'll have you know I had to enter in every single one of those italics in manually. FML.
> 
> In case anyone is curious:
> 
> Varric - Mayor  
> Anders - dairy farmer   
> Merrill - flower farmer (it's a thing) and witch   
> Iron Bull - doctor and leader of the Chargers rugby team   
> Dorian - librarian and one of two teachers   
> Cassandra - grocery store owner


End file.
